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A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 



BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
THE STORY OF THE GUIDES 
INDIAN FRONTIER WARFARE 
THE RELIEF OF CHITRAL, Etc 




I.OKI) ROBERTS AT KABUL, CHRISTMAS iSvn 
1-row a phoiogyaph kindly lent In' the Countess Kol/rts 



A 
SOLDIER'S 
MEMORIES 

m IN PEACE AND WAR « 



BY 

MAJOR-GENERAL 
SIR GEORGE YOUNGHUSBAND 

K.C.M.G., K.C.I.E., F.R.G.S., ETC 

ILLUSTRATED 




NEW YORK 

E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY 

68 1 Fifth Avenue 






r 



PRINTED BY WILLIAM bRKNUON AND SON, LTD., PLYMOUTH, 



DEDICATED 

BY GRACIOUS PERMISSION 

TO 

HER MAJESTY QUEEN ALEXANDRA 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER I 
A SANDHURST DUEL, AND OTHER LIGHT ADVENTURES 

PA.JK 

Sandhurst in 1877 — Willyum — The Provocation — The Challenge — 
Swords or Pistols — Preparations — The Duel — Death of Craw- 
ford — His Bequests — Flight to France — The Police — Resur- 
rection — A Matter of Labour — The Plan of Campaign — The 
Problem of Exit — Arrived at the Scene of Action — The First 
Success — Five more Successes — Consigned to a Watery Grave — 
To Bed at Dawn — Why Nothing Happened — Truth Will Out — 
My Sister Dolly — Milk in Paper Bags — A Dastardly Attack — 
Another Splendid Tea — Dolly Goes Back to Town — Great 
Strides in Topography — A Tidy Little Girl — An Eyeglass in 
Pursuit — Sherry and Lemonade — The Oak Grove — A Meeting 
on Parade .......... 19 

CHAPTER n 

JOINING 

War Clouds in 1878 — Cadets to the Rescue — Eastward Bound — 
A Court Martial — Trial and Sentence — Orderly Room Next 
Day — Our Oldest Ally — Invitations to a Dance — The Return 
of the Sabines — The Midshipman's Night — And Advice — 
India First Impressions — Space and Gorgeousness — Saloon 
Carriages — Many Meals — A Short Halt at Allahabad — Another 
at Lahore — From the Tropics to Frost — A Tip — A Double Tip 
in Return — Rumours of War — A Block at Jhelum — A 9th 
Lancer Friend — Cold Drives to Peshawar — In the Role of a 
Khitmutgar — Bengal Lancers — Join the 17th Foot — Lunch — 
At War Three Hours After — Fitted Out for the Fray — To 
Death or Glory ......... 32 

CHAPTER III 

THE KHYBER PASS 

Storming Ali-Musjid — The Repulse — Turning Movement of 2nd 
Brigade — A Midnight March — A Frosty Night — Adventures 
with a Dhooly — Sugar for a Pillow — On Again at Dawn — 
Thomas Ananias — His Goodness — Great Toil in a Blazing Sun — 



viii A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

PACE 

Another Cold Night 7000 Feet Up — Seventeen Sheep — Their 
Tragic Fate — The Boom of the Guns — The Enemy Cut Off — 
Surrenders — The Solitary Horseman — Enlists in The Guides 
Cavalry— Pathan Honour — Ali Gul, Subadar — His Home in 
Tirah — How to Get There — By Subtlety he Succeeds — His 
Return — That Subadar of the 26th Punjabis — The Vendetta — 
A Truce in British Territory — Two Soldiers of the King — 
Twelve Corpses Ahead — Death of Ali Gul — His Son — His 
Youthful Prowess — Enlisted in The Guides .... 45 



CHAPTER IV 

A SUBALTERN'S FIRST BATTLE 

One in Six are Fighting Men— The Soldier's Medal — A Boy in his 
First Battle — Reveille — The Colour-Sergeant — Cavalry and 
Horse Artillery Move Off — Enemy's Counter-Attack — Arrival 
of Infantry — First Casualties — David and Goliath — A Drama 
in Seconds — "The Cavalry! The Cavalry!" — The Guides 
Charge — The loth Hussars Charge — The Pursuit — Victory — 
And After — A Cavalry Subaltern — His First Experience — A 
Deadly Ordeal — The War- Horse in the Bible — Manoeuvring for 
Position — Charged by a Lancer — A Collision — Saved by a 
Sowar — The Trumpeter's White Horse — Charging with Long 
Hair Streaming in the Wind — Single Engagements — The Rally 
— Back to Camp — Cheered by the Infantry — " The Green 
Curve ".......... 58 



CHAPTER V 

"JUDY" AND OTHER DOGS 

Birth and Parentage— A Pup's Tail for a Bottle of Beer — " Made me 
'Op and Yell " — A 200 Mile Trek — Cholera — " Judy" in Action 
— Her Fatal Bravery — A Wounded Officer — Redivivi Both — 
The Bobbery Pack — Under the Orange Tree — " Baz " — Nearly 
Ruins a Military Career — The Parting — Searching for Master 
—Died Fighting—" Patch "—At the Dog Show— Revenge 
Afterwards— Travels First-Class— " Patch " and " Phoongye " 
— Rival Drives— "Patch" no Joseph — " Potiphar " — "Romp" 
— Some Snake Stories ........ 72 



CHAPTER VI 
CAMPAIGNING IN EGYPT 

A Dance at the Mess— Sir John McQueen— Off to Egypt— Five 
Special Trains of Camels — A Fire on Board— Another Fire — The 
Arab's Tail Missing— Entering Suakin Harbour— Fine Pilotage 
—The Battle of McNeill's Zareba— The First Rush— The 15th 
Sikhs— Our Own Adventures— A Shotgun Saves Us— Sudden 
End of Battle— Tamai—" Down into the Deep Sea "—Only a 
Bruise— The Water Tanks— The Humane Subaltern and His 



CONTENTS IX 

PACE 

Horse— He and Sir George Greaves disagree— The Sun Shone 
Again— In a Zareba— A Strange Thing— On the Jetty— Un- 
guarded Malefactors— A Severe Skirmish— A Babu and a Blue- 
jacket to the Rescue— A Gold Watch and D.S. Medal- 
Shooting for the Pot — An Unwelcome Surprise — The Ship of 
the Desert— Hasty Return to Camp— Young Kid of the 
Goats— A Small Night Alarm— A Chance Shot— A Happy 
Escape— Sir William Gatacre— His Energy— The Sentry— His 
Orders ^7 



CHAPTER VII 

A BURMESE ADVENTURE 

The Burmah War— A Subaltern's Job— A Six Months' Venture— 
An Englishman and a Gurkha alone— Up the Salween— Dacoits— 
Through Siam — American Missionaries — Their Kindness at 
Zimme— Loss of Saddlery and Pack Saddles— A Cigarette Case 
Incident — On Again— Healing an Old Lady — Kiang Tung — 
Trading— Ponies Confiscated— The Half-Caste Burman— An 
Outlaw— His Valuable Service— The Toothbrush— We Escape- 
Tracked — A Lost Carbine and nearly a Lost Head — Sunday Rest 
—Sapphires at Twopence Apiece— We Secure Sapphires and 
Cat's-Eyes — The French Banker's Valuation — The English 
Jeweller's— Sapphires Stolen— Mr. Gould the Consul— A Rough 
Sapphire for 40 Dollars— Where it Came From— A Very Old 
Bird ^°3 



CHAPTER VIII 

AT THE STAFF COLLEGE 

A Staff Revival— No More a " Mug's " Game— The New Class- 
Sir Charles Monro— Sir Spencer Ewart— " The Tyranny of the 
Horse "—Sir John Cowans—" The Count "—Sir Francis 
Davies— The Artists and Collaborateurs— Bunbury and Offley 
Shore — " Boy " Hornby, m.f.h. — Jack Lindley. m.f.h. — " The 
Cock Grouse "—And his Moor— The Duke's Day— Sir George 
Aston— A lz'=> Horse— Heavy Haulage— Nearly Won the 
Aldershot Point-to-Point — Hon. A. Hardinge, 'Ard 'Ard — A 
Souvenir of 1870— The Stafi College Coach— An Upset— A 
Nightmare— Sir Francis Clery— The French Professor — 
"Marked with Extraordinary Liberality "—The Liberality 
Explained — Sir Frederick Maurice — The Waterloo Campaign — 
A Remarkable Discovery— Strange Disappearance of No. 64 — 
Col. Lonsdale Hale— Col. Cooper King— Col. Henderson of 
Stonewall Jackson — " Scotland for Ever " — From the Scottish 
Officers— The Battle of Ballybunnion— From the Oirish 
Officers — Pork Chops and the Duke 115 



X A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

CHAPTER IX 

SOLDIERING ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER 

Peace and War — A Prisoner of War — General Sher Afzul — His Escort 
— The Modest General — A Matter of Buttons — The Enraged 
Soldiery— Diplomacy to the Front— The History of a Greatcoat 
—An Irish Stew in June— Handing Over to the Civil— Intense 
Agony of the General— The Police Officer Adamant— A Find of 
/20,ooo— A War Correspondent — The Times First in the Field — 
The Times Last in the Field — While the Cat's Away — The 
Gambler — " Prepare to Meet thy God " . . . .129 

CHAPTER X 
THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR 

Germany's Reward— A Gift from Spain— The War in the Philippines 
—On a Spanish Steamer — Running the Blockade — Iloilo — 
A Grandee of Spain— His Modest Price— The British Consul- 
Following the American Fleet to Manila— The Battle of Cavite 
—The Assembly of Neutral Fleets— Admiral Dewey— On the 

Olympia— German Bluster — The Irene — More Bluster The 

Way to Deal with Germans— American and English Camaraderie 
—Sir Edward Chichester— A British Sailor All Over— The 
Bombardment of Manila— Shocked Teutons— An Old Fort- 
Gunnery 100 Years Ago and Now— Two Debts— The American 
Regulars— Discipline— " Alf "—A Visit to Aguinaldo— A 
Spanish Picquet— Their Little Joke 



CHAPTER XI 

SOME ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 

Sir Hector MacDonald— Stopped by Telegram— Success after many 
Endeavours— Arrival in England— Lord George Hamilton— Sir 
Dighton Probyn Deus ex machina— Lord. Scarbrough— His Un- 
selhsh Patriotism— The 3rd Imperial Yeomanry— Yorkshire and 
Nottinghamshire Combine— The Best of Regiments— Trekking 
with Lord Methuen— In Pursuit of De Wet— Lindley— A Tight 
Corner— Lord Chesham's Brigade— Capture of Villebois de 
Mareuil s Commando— Surprising a Boer Commando— Charging 
a Kopje— The Two Yeomen— A Wound— The Man Fours- 
Lady Galway s Knife— Seventeen Pieces in him and yet Lived— 
s A^!^ S^^^ Girls— Boer Women— The Comely Daughter— 
And the Persuasive Subaltern— A Rider Follows us— The Comely 
Daughter Agam-Her Information— Her Night March Tied to 
the Interpreter— The Surprisers Surprised— The Bird Flown— 
The Revenge of Jealousy-We Picket a Farm-Remarkably 
Handsome Daughters-The Blood's Attentions-Also the 
RlnnHcf^ ^^ Intercepted Letter— A Reply that Got Through- 
Bloodstained Clothes and Frills-A Palatial Farm-We Sit 
Heavily On It-A Tall and Bounteous Female-We Meet 
Again at a Dinner Party . . . ^ ^ vv c ivieei; 



147 



160 



CONTENTS xi 

CHAPTER XII 
SOUTH AFRICAN JOTTINGS 

FAGB 

Lord Methuen — A Sahib of the Deepest Dye — Who is a Sahib ? — 
The Column Commander — " Eternal Damnation to Steyn and 
De Wet " — A Motley Column — Caton Woodville Pictures — And 
How They Panned Out — A Treacherous Shot — The Rapscallion 
Squadron — The Lord Mayor and Burghers — The Column Com- 
mander Speaks — The Daily Double Trek — Attacking the Kopjes 
— The Red-haired Boer — " Don't Shoot the Poor Devil " — The 
Column Commander's Last Trek — Rudyard Kipling — His 
Greeting — Cecil Rhodes — His Quest — Rudyard KipHng's Great 
Achievement — The Yeomen Cheer Rudyard Kipling and Cecil 
Rhodes — Their Modest Departure — Baden-Powell — Some Old 
Stories — His Reception in Cape Town — His Buttons Cut Ofi — 
Shot into Government House — An Honest Helper — Far- 
reaching Effect of Defence of Maf eking . . . .179 

CHAPTER XIII 

ON LEAVE IN AMERICA 

The Millionaire's Suite on Board — First Shave in America — Travel- 
ling at Night — With a Stout Lady — We Dress Together — 
Staying with the Griscoms — " Tactless " Defined — The British 
Way — A Reporter at Dinner — " Borrows " a Photograph — 
" The British Fighter is Here " — Mr. Roosevelt at Oyster Bay — 
American Individuality — " He Wants to be the Corpse " — 
Roosevelt's Rough Riders — A Postal Achievement — " Be 
Strong or Git " — My Brother Frank — His Candour — A Relic of 
Wolfe— The Heights of Abraham — British Gunners Speak 
French — The Races at Toronto — Canadian Hospitality — The 
Montreal Choir — A Country House in America — A Bright Throng 
— Making a Night of It — An Experience at Bridge — The Flapper 
— " You Carry Me " — Wins £^^o — Dividing the Spoil — The 
Diamond Bracelet — Poppa Displeased — Bong-bongs or Bouketts 
—The Right Way 192 

CHAPTER XIV 

KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 

King Edward — A Great King — The Rapprochement with France and 
Russia — His Tact and Diplomacy — Political Foresight — 
Sandringham — Lord Marcus Beresford and the Mare — The 
Marquis de Several — " The Importance of Being Ernest " — A 
Game of Bridge — " Off with his Head " — The Prince's Joke — 
" Persimmon " — The Prince and the Medal — Handing Potatoes 
to the German Emperor — Lord William Beresford — Some 
Anecdotes — Lord and Lady Dufferin — George V as Prince of 
Wales in India — The Royal Gift — The Prince's Charger — King 
George's Charger — Sir John Woon Twice to the Rescue — The 
German Emperor — Salisbury Cathedral — The Policeman's Story 
— The Former King of Siam — His 800 Wives — The Fate of an 



xii A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

PACE 

Amorous Page— Only 200 Wives on Week-end Visits — 
Milliners and Confectioners for 800 Wives — The Mikado — A 
Modem Monarch — In French Uniform — The Duke and Duchess 
of Connaught — A Divisional General in India — At a Small 
Dance — The Duke at Rawal Pindi — A Stanhope Gold Medal— 
Another — Mr. Roosevelt — The Boer Delegates — A Great 
President 206 

CHAPTER XV 

LORD ROBERTS, LORD KITCHENER, AND OTHER 
GENERALS 

Lord Roberts — A Very Great Man — His Courage — 70 Years Old in 
the Boer War — His Final and Great Effort — Lies in St. Paul's 
with Nelson and Wellington— Contrast between Lord Roberts 
and Lord Kitchener — Both Great Soldiers — Lord Roberts's 
Kindness and Consideration — Wonderful Memory — Thought for 
the Bereaved — Lord Kitchener's Disapproval — Burying the 
Hatchet — First Meeting with Lord Kitchener — His Escape 
from the Boers — Egypt his Monument— Lord Cromer's Influence 
— Lord Kitchener's Power of Intuition — Lord Wolseley in the 
Soudan — A Great Reformer — " Political Generals " — Keeping 
before the Public — The Shower of Medals — A Pint of 'Arf and 
'Arf — The Debt of the Army to Lord Wolseley — Sir Horace 
Smith-Dorrien — A Born Leader of Men — Mons and Le Cateau — 
Sir W. Penn Symons — His Toasts — Sir Douglas Haig — As a Fag at 
Clifton — As I.-G. of Cavalry — Sir William Robertson — His First 
Commission — Work at Simla — The Staff College — The Brain of 
the Army — Two Anonymous Generals — The Flagstaff at 
Umballa— The Battle of the Standard — A Pusillanimous Staff 
Officer — The Heroic Garrison Engineer — The Triumph of the 
Lady — Sir Edmund Barrow — Sir James Willcocks — General 
Bannatine-Allason . . . . . . . .227 

CHAPTER XVI 

THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 

The Frontier Officer — Not Easily Taken Aback in Sudden Emer- 
gency — A Tragedy of Three — Major Dodd — In Daily Peril — 
Capt. Butler of The Guides — The Khattuk Dance — Shot from 
Behind — Murderer Hanged — Major Dodd and Capt. Brown 
Homeward Bound — Shot by his Orderly — Pursuit of Murderer 
— Lieut. Hickie's Gallantry — Eight Killed or Wounded — A 
Snapshot Ends the Fight — The Deputy-Commissioner holds a 
Jirgah — Raiders Reported — Ransoms — Their Use and Abuse — 
In Hot Pursuit — -Skilled Trackers — Cavalry Cover 80 Miles- 
Gang Run to Earth — A Night Watch — The Gang Accounted 
For — Another Raid — Cavalry and Infantry Start — Terrorised 
Villagers — In the Village Mosque— Surrounding the Raiders — 
Fierce Fight in the Night — Raiders Break Out — Christmas Eve 
— A Midnight Call — The Major's Lady — The Squadron Starts — 
Surrounding the Village — A Brief Encounter — A Casualty — 
Nearing Home^The Lady and the Dog — A Simple Grave in the 
East .......... 244 



CONTENTS xiii 

CHAPTER XVII 
INDIA AND THE INDIANS 



PAGE 

The Indian Problem — Paternal Government — Laws and Lawyers — 
The Disturbing Element — Poisonous Polluters of the Political 
Atmosphere— The Frontier Crimes Act — What India Requires 
— Ibrahim Khan — His Devotion and Death — The Indian Soldier 
— Devotion to his Officers — An Old Retainer — Awaiting the 
Baby Sahib — The Best Indians — The Worst — Kadir Dad — His 
Devotion to his Master — John of Baghdad — Lord Mayo — " A 
King Indeed " — His Liberality— Sir Pertab Singh — -The 
Englishman in India — His Qualities — The One Man Present — 
Swaraj — An Exhibition — The Deputy-Commissioner to the 
Rescue — When India is Ready for Self-Government . . 268 

CHAPTER XVIII 

ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN 

My Father's Ride — 700 Miles in Seven Days — The June Heat — 
Sukker to Simla — " An Awful Beast " — The Adjutant-General's 
Remarks — Lord Lytton's Remark — The Irishman of India — 
Some Sample Letters — Catching a Train — " Your Honour 
Knows Best " — The Horns of a Dilemma — The Camp of Roaring 
Luck — The Old Soldier — " Draw Swords " — " Charge " — The 
Queen's Bounty — Sir James Willcocks and the Tactful Sentry — 
A Regimental Durbar — The Infuriated Gurkha — Deprived of 
his Rope to Heaven — The Judgment — Mr. Keir Hardie in India 
— Calls Himself a Coolie — Astonishment of Audience — The 
Wano Patriots — Invitation Accepted — Arranging his Reception 
— Battles by the Way — A Feast at Mess — A Disappointment — 
Micky Doyne — Full Private in the K.O.S.B. — Sir Bindon Blood 
Admires the View — Storming of the Malakand — The Return 
Journey — A Surprise Visit — A Curious Medallion . . .280 

CHAPTER XIX 

MESS CUSTOMS 

The King's Health — Across the Water — Some Regiments Absolved — 
Undoubted Loyalty of Old — Various Customs in Drinking the 
King's Health — "Gentlemen, the Vice" — The Regent's Allow- 
ance—A Backhander — A Naval Tradition — " A Glass of Wine 
with You " — Treating in Messes— Mufti at Dinner — A Sub- 
altern's Instruction — Ante-room Etiquette — Scotch Regiments 
and St. Andrew — A " Quaich " — Pipers at Mess — Irish Regiments 
and St. Patrick — Cricket the Day After — The Lost Wicket- 
keeper — Welsh Regiments and St. David — Passing the Leek — 
The Italian Priest — The Senior Officer at Mess — An Angry 
Doctor — Six Months' Discipline — Life in a Mess— Mess Ex- 
penses — How to Live — Young Officers of To-day — An Old 
Soldier to a Young One — Answering Salutes — The King's 
Uniform .......... 297 



xiv A SOLDIER S MEMORIES 

CHAPTER XX 
SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 

PAGE 

The Victoria Cross — The Royal Warrant — Lieut. R. C. Hart — 
Lieut. E. P. Leach — Lieut. Walter Hamilton — Capt. A. G. 
Hammond — Capt. W. J. Vousden — Rev. J. W. Adams — 
Major G. White— Lieut. A. K. Wilson, r.n.— Q Battery. R.H.A. 
■ — Lieut. -Col. R. B. Adams — Lt. Lord Fincastle — Lieut. H. Mac- 
Lean — Lieut. F. A. Maxwell — Lieut. G. Wylly — Sepoy Lalla . 314 

CHAPTER XXI 

A CRUISE DOWN THE INDUS 

A Mighty River — Nine Miles Wide — Its Devastations — Dera- 
Ghazi-Khan Swept Away — The Party — The Fleet — Weighing 
Anchor — " What's a Log ? " — The Telegraph Operator — Lunch 
on Board — The Lady sees 3000 Geese — We Shoot One — The 
Fleet Sets Sail— Anchor for the Night — A Few Partridges — 
Soulful Music — Set Sail Again — Stalking Duck — More Par- 
tridges — Struggle with an Alligator — A Night Alarm — " Man 
Overboard " — The Telegraph Operator's Use — His Night 
Excursion — Shooting, Lazing and Sailing — A Goanese General — 
A Scene of Desolation — The Ruined Town — The Church 
Stands Amazed — Good-bye — Off to Fight the Germans . . 337 



ILLUSTRATIONS 



Lord Roberts at Kabul, Christmas, 1879 . . . frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

-The Author Dressed as a Shan, 1886-87 . . . .104 

Staff College, 1890-91 . . . . . . . .114 

Caricature OF Officers AT THE Staff College, 1890-91 . . 120 

Captain Charles Townshend, Commanding in the Defence of 
Chitral, 1895, AND as Major-General in the Defence of Kut- 
el-amara, 1915-16 . . . . . . . .130 

Admiral Dewey, Commander of the American Fleet at the 
Naval Battle of Cavite, May i, 1898 . . . -150 

Lieut. -Gen. Sir Robert Baden-Powell, Commanding in the 
Defence of Mafeking, 1899-1900 ..... 188 

King Edward VII ......... 206 

Lord William Beresford in 1886 . . . . . .210 

The Marquess of Dufferin and Ava . . . . .212 

The Late Lord Kitchener as a Major in Egypt in 1884 . 230 

Rev. J. W. Adams, V.C. ........ 234 

General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien, when Commanding a 
Brigade in the Boer War, i 899-1 902 

Ibrahim Khan ........ 



236 
270 



A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 



A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 



CHAPTER I 

A SANDHURST DUEL, AND OTHER LIGHT 
ADVENTURES 

Sandhurst in 1877 — Willyum — The Provocation — The Challenge — 
Swords or Pistols — Preparations — The Duel — Deatn of Craw- 
ford — His Bequests — Flight to France — The Police — Resur- 
rection — A Matter of Labour— The Plan of Campaign — The 
Problem of Exit — Arrived at the Scene of Action — The First 
Success — -Five more Successes — Consigned to a Watery Grave — 
To Bed at Dawn — Why Nothing Happened — Truth Will Out — 
My Sister Dolly — Milk in Paper Bags — A Dastardly Attack — 
Another Splendid Tea — Dolly Goes Back to Town— Great 
Strides in Topography — A Tidy Little Girl — An Eyeglass in 
Pursuit — Sherry and Lemonade — The Oak Grove— A Meeting 
on Parade 

THIS is not an autobiography, and there- 
fore will not deal with the nursery and 
early youth. These are merely the memories 
of a soldier, and as such cannot perhaps more 
appropriately begin than at Sandhurst, in 1877. 
If I call to mind the lighter side of Sandhurst life, 
it is not because there were no serious aspects ; but 
rather because in our lighter moods we may possibly 
be of more interest than when portrayed in the hot 
pursuit of military lore. 

During my time there was at Sandhurst a fellow 
cadet who was rather a simple young man, but 
withal very good-natured, so he in due course was 
taken up by the brighter spirits as a subject on 
whom to exercise their wit and fancy. To this end, 



20 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

and as the result of a conspiracy, another gentleman- 
cadet of mild exterior was invited, and incited, to 
call the simple gentleman-cadet aforesaid, — who 
went by the name of Willyum, — a Liar, no less, in 
the largest type, and with the greatest pubhcity 
and emphasis. This he accordingly did. But 
Willyum, to our chagrin, looked at him with great 
blandness and condescension, and without the least 
annoyance remarked : 

" Oh, no, not quite all that, old boy ! " 

This was in the days before it was customary to 
call our best friends liars, as a term of endearment. 

" Yes you are, you are a — let's see — sanguinary 
Liar, and I don't mind who hears me say so," 
vociferated the mildly exteriored confederate. 

" Well, of course, if you say so, I suppose I am," 
assented Willyum with great amiability. 

But this would not do at all, there was distinct 
danger of a fiasco ; so the bystanders, gentlemen- 
cadets simply pining to wade in someone else's gore, 
for the honour of the cloth, exclaimed with one 
accord : 

" This cannot be, my dear fellow, you simply 
cannot allow a fellow to call you a damned liar to 
your face." 

"Can't I ? " said Willyum, much perplexed. "Then 
what the doose am I to do ? " 

" Do ! Do ? Great Heavens ! Why, call him out 
at once," his mentors advised. " You must re- 
member that as a gentleman-cadet you are, though 
not quite an officer, yet very nearly a gentleman, 
and you really must not stand insults of this sort." 

" Oh ! Ah ! indeed, um ! Ought to call him 
out ? What, to fight ? You don't say so ? I can't 
box for nuts," replied Willyum, with a pale and 
weary grin ; for the gravity of the situation was 
dawning on him. 

"Boxing! Lord love us! Boxing! There is, 



A SANDHURST DUEL 21 

needless to say, only one way to wipe out an insult 
like this, and that is with a sabre, or a pistol," 
chorused the onlookers in virtuous indignation. 
Never, assuredly, were so many shocked and out- 
raged people gathered together. 

" Must I really ? " asked the now unhappy 
Willyum. " I'm sure he didn't mean it." (" Yes, I 
did," from the other gentleman.) "And anyway, I 
have not the least desire to kill him, and don't 
suppose he is particularly desirous of downing me." 
(" Not so sure," from the ferocious antagonist.) 

" Yes," replied the strictly chivalrous crowd, 
" unless he apologises to you, you are bound to call 
him out." 

" And he has choice of weapons," added a seasoned 
old dueller of about seventeen summers. 

So friend Willyum was hurried off to the College ; 
and thence, by hand of his Second, sent a challenge 
to mortal combat to Crawford. Unless, of course, 
Crawford would apologise and withdraw the 
objectionable epithet. 

Crawford returned a scornful reply, and chose 
pistols. 

The Seconds then selected a secluded spot in the 
pine woods, up behind the hospital. Where, so 
they explained to Willyum, the shots were not 
likely to be heard by the Officers ; and where also 
the soil was light and easily dug ; or as an alter- 
native the hospital was near. The hour chosen was 
tea-time, which, though not an obligatory meal, 
claimed the attention of most gentlemen-cadets, 
and all the Officers. Thus too much publicity would 
be avoided. 

On the fatal afternoon, therefore, by devious 
routes, the two parties, accompanied by a medical 
student, guest of one of the gentlemen-cadets, 
assembled at the selected and secluded spot. It 
was not so secluded, however, but that some 



22 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

spectators stalked them through the woods and 
heather, and lying close were witnesses of the 
tragedy. 

Willy um was pale, but firm. Crawford was 
gloomy, but determined. 

The Seconds loaded the pistols, and gave one to 
each of the combatants. Thej^ then placed them 
back to back, and instructed them carefull5^ in their 
duties. On a given word they were each to take 
six paces to their front, turn round, and fire. 

" But suppose he goes quicker than I do," 
objected Crawford, " and turns round and plugs 
me in the back before I am ready ? " 

" That is arranged for," replied the Seconds with 
great dignity; "we shall give the time — one, two, 
three, four, five, six — in slow time." 

" Are you ready ? " asked both Seconds ; and 
the medical student took hasty shelter behind the 
nearest tree. 

Then : " Slow march ! One, two, three, four, 
five, six." 

There were two simultaneous bangs, and Craw- 
ford was seen to stagger, and fall. Indeed, he died 
very nicely. He forgave Willy um for having shot 
him, and asked to press his hand. He left messages 
for his mother, and bequeathed his fox-terrier to 
me, and his watch to his soldier servant. 

Then we hurried Willyum from the horrid scene. 
He was in a distinctly dazed condition, and could 
not for the life of him think how he came to make 
so deadly a shot. The last that he recollected was 
that when he pulled the trigger beyond recall, the 
pistol was point-blank on to one of the Seconds. 
Well, anyway, there it was, and he was infernally 
sorry ; and what on earth was he to do ? 

It immediately occurred to all that when one 
man killed another in a duel he invariably " flew to 
France," or anvwav, " fled the countrv." So we 



A SANDHURST DUEL 23 

advised Willyum that the best thing he could do 
was to fly to France ; and that he had better go and 
pack his clothes at once, before the police, like 
sleuth-hounds, were on his track. We also magnani- 
mously agreed that we would make up a purse 
between us to assist him in his flight. 

We then locked him into his room to pack, leaving 
a gentleman-cadet with him to see that he did not 
hang himself, or do anything else foolish, and our- 
selves mounted guard outside. 

Just as Willyum had finished packing, and had 
been disguised with a corked moustache, there came 
a thundering knock at the door. 

" My God ! The Police ! " exclaimed Willyum, 
and made for the window, with his guardian gentle- 
man-cadet hanging on to him in determined manner. 

'' Don't be an idiot, my good ass ! It is a thirty 
feet drop ! " 

Another thundering knock at the door, and 
imminent signs of its bursting through. 

" Who is there ? " asked Willyum, in a voice of 
stern despair. 

" Why, I am, you old Juggins ! " yelled the loud 
and cheerful voice of the corpse. 

Perhaps no one in his life was ever so glad to see 
a corpse as was Willyum on that historic occasion. 
He literally hugged that corpse, and at once took 
him off, and the seconds and the guard too, to the 
ante-room bar to drink his own health. 

True, there was some slight coldness between 
Crawford and myself over the fox-terrier which he 
had bequeathed to me. He had also considerable 
difficulty in extracting his watch from his soldier 
servant, to whom it had at once been given with 
great and spontaneous magnanimity, to that worthy 
fellow's intense astonishment. 

Thus ended the famous Sandhurst duel. 



24 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

If there was one thing a gentleman-cadet of those 
days loathed more than another, it was what was 
called " digging." That is to say, by the sweat of 
one's brow, and with picks and shovels, making 
earthen entrenchments. 

"I'd rather lie starko in the open, and take my 
bally chance," was the prevailing sentiment. 

That was because it was part of our daily curric- 
ulum (to use the chaste language of the War Ofhce 
regulations), and therefore ipso facto a matter for 
severe reprobation. But to get up in the middle of 
the night, and at that unseemly hour to undertake 
manual labour of the severest type, just because 
we were supposed to be asleep in nice warm beds, 
that was a different matter. That was fruit from 
the forbidden tree, and therefore a source of immense 
satisfaction to all concerned. 

It matters not who first thought of it, men of the 
greatest genius lie in unknown graves ; but his 
suggestion was that on the last night of our stay as 
guests of Her Majesty, at the Royal Military College, 
a select and secret party should rise in the middle 
of the night, get out of College (no mean feat), go 
down to York Town, dig up one of the lamp-posts, 
and throw it into the lake. 

The exact object of this feat is not quite apparent 
to a maturer intellect. The lamp-posts did not 
belong to the War Office, nor to the Instructors or 
Professors at the Royal Mihtary College ; all of 
whom were, of course, by tradition and custom, our 
natural enemies. No, the lamp-posts merely be- 
longed to the City Fathers of York Town, whom we 
did not even know by sight, much less against whom 
had we a legitimate cause of complaint. They were 
also buried deep in macadam and concrete ; and 
the hour selected was midnight, in the not too 
sultry month of December. Once, however, the 
conspiracy was started there were no lack of volun- 



A SANDHURST DUEL 25 

teers to man the undertaking, but naturally a very 
deadly secrecy had to be observed, or all might 
have been discovered and the plot frustrated. 

Finally a storming party of eight was chosen to 
do the actual work in hand ; whilst any others who 
cared to sneak out and see the fun might do so, on 
their own. 

To get out of the College was the first problem 
that faced the strategists. The windows facing the 
lake were all too high, and moreover there was the 
quarter-guard just inside the main entrance, and 
patrols prowling about. The lower windows in all 
the back wings faced a broad and deep area, with 
spiked railings opposite ; whilst the Sergeant-In- 
structors and their families slept in the basement 
below. That did not seem very promising either, 
though a plank was secured and placed handy, and 
some stout rope from the bridging stores was also 
carefully concealed. However, a scouting party 
found a still better way, for on proceeding down to 
the kitchen, with great caution and a dark lantern, 
they found the whole place absolutely deserted, and 
a safe and easy exit from it near the corner of the 
old chapel. 

So far so good. Next, by a circuitous road through 
the Oak Grove, the marauders reached the main and 
only street of York Town. Here it was found that 
an economical and thoughtful municipality had put 
out all the lights after midnight, with the laudable 
intention of saving gas. But as a regrettable 
sequence, they unfortunately lost a lot of it that 
night. The lamp-post selected for attack was in a 
secluded corner, just past the end of the Terrace, 
where everything was as silent as the grave. But 
first picquets were posted up and down the road to 
keep a look-out for roaming policemen, or other 
undesirable persons. 

Then the work began, and it is really extra- 



26 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

ordinary what a fearsome noise to guilty ears a 
pickaxe makes, on a metalled road, on a still and 
frosty night. One would have thought the whole 
village, as well as all the Officers living in the 
Terrace, would have been awakened with one 
accord ; but they slept like the Seven-and-seventy 
Sleepers. 

" Can't you muffle, or muzzle, the blamed thing ? " 
asked the leader of the party in a fierce, hoarse 
whisper. 

" No, I can't, sonny. You just come and try. 
Why the blessed thing's set in adamant at least. 
I haven't made a scratch yet." 

It took many reliefs, and a good deal of honest 
sweat, and hard words ; and caused several pairs 
of blistered hands, before the lamp-post showed the 
least sign of rocking. 

" Now then, chuck the rope over the top, and 
haul all," ordered the bandit leader. 

" I say, shan't we blow up the whole bally town 
if we break the pipes like this ? " enquired an 
anxious voice. It belonged to the gentleman-cadet 
who was an adept at " Stinks," as chemistry was 
elegantly called. 

" By Jove, there is something in that," agreed 
one or two. 

"Hang the town," declared the reckless leader; 
" take a haul ! " 

In about sixty seconds that lamp-post was lying 
low, and the conspirators felt big men. 

" Let's have another down," suggested one of the 
more adventurous. 

" Yes, come on, let's ! " chorused all. 

This time a much more prominent and public 
lamp-post was selected, and that too after severe 
labour came down — plank ! And yet not a mouse 
stirred, nor a dog barked. 

Finally six lamp-posts lay moribund, and from 



A SANDHURST DUEL 27 

six pipe ends was escaping, in large quantities, the 
precious gas of the citizens. 

Everyone was pretty tired, and it was now 
getting on towards morning, when someone sug- 
gested : 

" Let's chuck them into the lake ! " 

Carried item. con. 

So, after more strenuous labour, all six lamp- 
posts were put into a flat -bottomed fishing punt 
there was on the lake, and this was paddled out to 
the island and the lamp-posts were dropped over- 
board in about six feet, or more, of water. 

Then back all, hard as hard could run, for dawn 
was perilously close. 

Happily cooks are not early birds, so the kitchen 
was safely passed, and an hour's hard-earned sleep 
was secured before Reveille sounded. 

Most of us were due to leave by early trains, but 
it was really more than could be resisted to go down 
to York Town before departing, to see " what was 
happening." 

Happening ! why absolutely nothing ! The gas 
in ordinary course had been turned off at the main, 
and though passers-by noticed in a casual way that 
a lamp-post here and there was absent, it did not 
strike them as anything extraordinary. Merely been 
taken up for repair, or to be re-sited, they thought. 
It wasn't till we were all safe in London that a bit 
of a stir began to arise about those lamp-posts. 
But after a time we heard that the whole matter 
had settled down into a sort of dark and gloomy 
myster}^ and one which the most cunning police 
could not unravel. 

That story was frequently told for many years 
to one's friends, but always with the secret con- 
viction that none of them believed it. A bigger- 
liar-than-he -looks sort of attitude they assumed. 
However, truth will out of the deepest well. Whilst 



28 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

we were at the Staff College, years later, the Sand- 
hurst lake was drained, for some settled purpose ; 
to kill off the pike, or maybe search for a corpse. 
And there sure enough, over against the island, 
resting peacefully at the bottom of the lake, were 
our six lamp-posts ! 



One of our batch of cadets made up admirably as 
a girl, and a very handsome girl to boot, so we had 
a good deal of fun with her. Her first female appear- 
ance in public was as my sister, though as candid 
friends remarked, she was a doosed sight too good- 
looking to be any relative of mine. By way of trial 
run we worked her off first on the Under-Officer of 
our Division. Everything went off capitally, and 
about four of us got a free and gorgeous tea at the 
expense of the Under-Officer. 

After tea the Under-Officer most politely took 
" my sister," Dolly by name, and showed her round 
the lecture-rooms, and ante-rooms, and dining- 
rooms, in all of which she showed a most intelligent 
and ladylike interest. But the most unfortunate 
thing happened towards the end of such a happy 
day. In those days gentlemen-cadets used to buy 
milk down at the pantry, and carried it up to their 
rooms in paper bags. No one has ever before, or 
since, seen or heard of milk being carried in paper 
bags ; but there, and then, it was a cadet custom. 

In the course of our promenade, whilst we were 
going along a passage below a flight of stairs, there 
chanced to be up the flight of stairs a dastardly 
fellow, who had recognised the lady as being a 
particular friend and trigonometrical collaborator. 
So by way of showing his affection and appreciation 
he dropped his paper bag of milk, with extraordinary 
precision, straight on top of a very chaste and costly 
erection she had on her head. The result was a most 



A SANDHURST DUEL 29 

unladylike roar, a flow of the most ungentlemanly 
abuse, and picking up her skirts she just skipped 
up the stairs after that unrighteous fellow like a 
lamp-lighter. That blew the gaff, as the vulgar 
say, in so far as the Under-Ofhcer was concerned, but 
he turned out a valuable ally in our next venture. 

This was no lesser prey than the Officer of our 
Division ; a bit of a lady's man, bien entendu. Here 
we scored a complete success from beginning to end, 
and incidentally secured another simply splendid 
tea for nothing. True, we nearly had hysterics over 
the profuse politeness of our host to a lady, whom 
he had that morning told off with great severity for 
slackness on parade. 

We were again shown all the lecture halls, especi- 
ally the chief guest's own ; and ante-rooms and 
mess rooms. But we took exceeding good care to 
keep clear of possible traps and staircases, and 
avoided congregations of our fellow cadets with 
considerable craft. The chief trouble arose when 
the Officer insisted on walking down to the station 
with us, for " my sister " Dolly was by way of going 
back to Town. Even that difficulty was however 
surmounted, and out of our scanty pocket-money 
we bought her a return ticket to Woking, and 
fervently prayed she would be back before next 
roll-call. 

The Officer evidently thought me rather wanting 
in brotherly affection in not kissing my sister 
tenderly as we parted, and himself warmly pressed 
her hand, and gave her The Queen and other female 
fodder to read in the train. All the way back to the 
College he kept saying what a nice girl my sister 
was ; and we kept changing the subject to football, 
or any blamed thing. It was really rather touching 
how fond of me that gallant fellow became during 
the rest of the term, and what immense strides I 
made in the art of topography. 



30 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

Our last, and perhaps most successful, endeavour, 
was at the expense of a fellow-cadet. He was one 
of those dashing fellows who loved the ladies, all of 
them, with all his heart. And every little bit of 
bunting that appeared on his horizon he set sail 
after. So we again dressed up our good-looking 
comrade, this time as rather a nice, tidy-looking 
little girl from — well, anywhere, but not my sister 
this time. With infinite care we smuggled her out, 
and about dusk let her slip in York Town. As luck 
would have it, she had not walked more than once 
up and once down, when the gentleman-cadet with 
the large heart espied her, and screwing his eye- 
glass firm in, gave instant pursuit. 
" Good evening," cavalierly. 
" Good evening," prudishly. 
" Going for a walk ? " ingratiatingly. 
" Yes," artlessly. 

" May I come too ? " with easy nonchalance. 
" You may please yourself," with invitation. 
" I say, you are jolly pretty, you know. Let's go 
in and have a drink at the ' Swan.' " 

" Thanks, I don't mind if I do. Sherry-and- 
lemonade, please." This was rather heroic. 

After the sherry-and-lemonade they came back 
through York Town, and branched off towards the 
Oak Grove ; very carefully, and discreetly, stalked 
behind hedgerows, by quite a respectable crowd of 
indiscreet onlookers. 

Arrived at the Oak Grove, the fond couple seated 
themselves on the greensward at the foot of an 
ancient oak, and the old, old story was told again, 
in moving fashion. Though we were all rather 
fearful lest our girl's mess trousers might peep out 
from the bottom of her skirts ; long skirts happily 
in those days, and the exhibition of an ankle an 
unpardonable sin. 
Still, accidents do happen even in the best managed 



A SANDHURST DUEL 31 

dramas, in moments of abandon, or carelessness. 
However, our girl was a model of careful discretion, 
and kept the red stripe tidily below. But even the 
most finished actor cannot bear the strain too long, 
especially with a lot of idiots giggling behind the 
hedge. 

" Well, I must be going now, duckie," she said 
sweetly. 

"Oh, no, darling, stay a little longer, won't you ? 
There is heaps of time." 

" Oh, no, there ain't. I've got to mind mc p's 
and q's and be in early, or mother goes on that, and 
so does father. And as for my brother Tom, 'e'd 
kill me straight if 'e saw me now, and you too." 

" Ferocious fellow, begad. Eh ! What ? Well, 
if you must go I suppose you must, but when shall 
we meet again, darling ? " 

" To-morrow morning on parade," answered 
a gruff voice from under the Dolly Varden hat. 



CHAPTER II 

JOINING 

War Clouds in 1878 — Cadets to the Rescue — Eastward Bound — 
A Court Martial — Trial and Sentence — Orderly Room Next 
Day — Our Oldest Ally — Invitations to a Dance — The Return 
of the Sabines — The Midshipman's Night — And Ad^ace — 
India First Impressions — Space and Gorgeousness — Saloon 
Carriages — Many Meals — A Short Halt at Allahabad — Another 
at Lahore — From the Tropics to Frost — A Tip — A Double Tip 
in Return — Rumours of War — A Block at Jhelum — -A Qth 
Lancer Friend — Cold Drives to Peshawar^ — -In the Role of a 
Khitmutgar — Bengal Lancers— Join the 17th Foot — Lunch — 
At War Three Hours After — Fitted Out for the Fray — To 
Death or Glory 

IT was the year when war with Russia, and war 
with Afghanistan, were imminent ; when all 
Europe was in an electric state, and Indian 
troops were brought to Malta, that a batch of cadets 
were hastily released from Sandhurst, presumably 
to stem the tide. History does not appear to be 
quite decided whether it was the sudden production 
of these five score young gentlemen, or whether it 
was the dramatic arrival of the Indian troops, or 
whether it was merely the united common sense of 
a few leading politicians that saved Europe from a 
great war. It was, however, happily saved. 

But in Asia, a less sapient potentate, the Amir of 
Afghanistan, was injudicious enough to challenge 
his old friends and neighbours, the Enghsh, to 
mortal combat. To this war many of the gentlemen- 
cadets of 1878 were drafted, and some of them to 
Her Majesty's 17th Foot ; later known as the 

32 



JOINING 33 

Leicestershire Regiment, of undying fame in France 
and Mesopotamia. 

The voyage to India was much the same then as 
it is now, except that we sailed in one of Her Majesty's 
troopships, the Crocodile in our . case, under the 
White Ensign ; and Uved hke rats in the ** Pande- 
monium," instead of being conveyed in comfortable 
ocean liners, as in more modem days. 

The " Pandemonium " was a dark and noisome 
submarine hole, in which the thirty last-joined sub- 
alterns hved, and moved, and had their being. No 
one would dream of putting even a cow in such a 
place nowadays. From its position under the sea 
no fresh air could reach it, and in the Red Sea the 
heat in these lower regions was like nothing else on 
earth. Moreover it was against naval and military 
discipline for subalterns to sleep elsewhere than in 
this inferno. One still remembers the awful and 
appalling headaches which racked the weary waker 
in the morning. But one is young at eighteen ; so 
that mutton chops, beefsteak, bacon and eggs 
— " strong man's breakfast," as it was called — 
came nothing amiss, even after nights such as 
these. 

Of course the usual internecine warfare took 
place, and occasionally a Subaltern's Court Martial 
was held. One of these was, perhaps, sufficiently 
quaint to be recorded. A subaltern was tried, by his 
peers and brethren of the cloth, for having a face 
and features " calculated to spread alarm and 
despondency amongst Her Majesty's forces," to use 
the picturesque phraseology of the Articles of War. 
The court martial was held with due formality, 
except that all wore nightshirts instead of uniform, 
as more suitable to the place of assembly, and 
climate. There were the president and members of 
the court, the prosecutor, the prisoner's friend, and 
the prisoner himself, guarded by a file of subalterns 



34 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

armed with nozzles from the fire-hose — a naval 
offence of the first magnitude, had we known it. 

After a careful, if not very prolonged trial, during 
which eloquent speeches were made both for the 
prosecution and defence, the prisoner was found 
guilty of the crime set forth. The president then 
put on a top hat which some injudicious person had 
brought on board, by way of black cap, and pro- 
nounced sentence. " The prisoner was to be painted 
blue and yellow in alternate stripes (like a football 
jersey), with a view to distracting the attention of 
Her Majesty's forces from the more alarming 
features of his personality." 

The paint was obtained from the ship's carpenter, 
but the execution of the sentence was rather a 
tedious job, and it was only with the kind assistance 
of the prisoner, who took the keenest interest in the 
proceedings, and himself painted his left arm and 
right leg, that a satisfactory result was obtained. 
He really was a masterpiece, and looked perfectly 
awful ! We could do no better, therefore, than let 
him loose on the " horse-boxes," armed with a 
bolster. In the " horse-boxes," on the deck above 
the Pandemonium, lived the Majors and Captains, 
and on these it was our custom to carry out occa- 
sional midnight assaults, when we ourselves could 
not sleep, and did not see why others should. One 
portly, and well-nourished Major, really thought 
that the devil had come for him this time, and let 
forth an awesome and fearful yell-and-squeak com- 
bined. He required a good deal of soothing down, 
did the well-nourished Major ; and some of us had 
unfortunately to line up at Orderly Room next 
morning over that episode. 

Next astern of us in the Suez Canal was tied up a 
Portuguese passenger ship, and the thought occurred 
to several bright spirits simultaneously that we 
might have a dance, and invite the Portuguese 



JOINING 35 

ladies warmly, and their men coldly, to come on 
board and join it. The Captain of our ship and the 
Officer commanding the troops gave their consent, 
and three of us were sent off with a formal invita- 
tion card. Why three were sent is not clear, but 
probably it was a careful provision on the part of 
our seniors to keep us out of mischief. 

We went in state in the Captain's gig, and arriving 
at the top of the gangway of our oldest Ally, handed 
in our invitation card. But unfortunately none of 
them could read it, whilst none of us knew Portu- 
guese. The situation, however, was saved by one of 
the envoys, who achieved the brilliant idea of clasp- 
ing another round the waist and waltzing round, 
whilst the third envoy whistled a tune. Light out 
of darkness, and laughter, and much chatter ! Then 
began Pedro, and Braganza, and De Souza to dash 
about after Mrs. Pedro, the Misses Braganza, and 
other Donna Marias ; so that finally six ladies, 
large and small, but mostly large and well mous- 
tached, were collected. These safely tucked into 
the boat the bluejackets pushed off, and most 
unfortunately left nearly all the men behind. Our 
return to H.M.S. Crocodile assumed, therefore, some- 
what the air of a successful raid ; and one classical 
student leaning over the rail made some apparently 
amusing remarks, about ancient Roman History 
and the Sabines. 

The dance was a great success, especially so for a 

very juvenile midshipman. That desperate fellow 

i captured the largest and most liberally moustached 

I lady — a three-decker he called her — and danced 

with her continuously, and rapturously. As he 

, afterwards confided, neither of them could speak a 

■ word of the other's language. " But, my dear fellow, 

that don't matter ; when in doubt you just squeeze 

; her hand, quietly but firmly, you know. Not too 

, much though, old son, for one has to be deadly 



36 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

careful not to overdo it, or they'll elope with you to 
a cert. ; they are regular volcanoes these southern 
women, by Aaron's rod they are ! " And he winked 
with great solemnity and caution. 

I had been in India before, but had left it at the 
early age of three. Yet two things came back to me 
at once : one was the taste of a mango, and the other 
was the smell of the mimosa. I also had a sort of 
dim and distant recollection of the smell of a native, 
for my old bearer used to carry me pick-a-back 
across his thigh, from which coign of vantage one 
has an excellent opportunity for gaining an un- 
dying impression of this bouquet. 

One's next impression was of great spaciousness, 
and luxury, and clean clothes, and many baths. 
None of these stand looking into, especially the 
clean clothes or baths ; nor is it advisable to enquire 
too closely into the origin and place of manufacture 
of the many-coursed meal, or into the corners of the 
spacious rooms. But these soured thoughts of 
maturer years do not occur to the gay subaltern. 

On his first morning he wakes up finding himself 
in a great big room, opening by unclosed French 
windows on to a broad veranda. On the veranda 
are great palms in tubs, and through them he sees 
the bright sunshine. A highly obsequious gentle- 
man in brilliant white raiment places a tray with 
tea and toast and butter by his bedside, and asks 
when His Royal Highness will take his bath. 

The subaltern gives a regal reply and munches 
his toast with great relish. 

To add to the novelty of his surroundings, a crow 
hops in, looks at him cautiously, hops a little nearer, 
sees him smiling blandly, and with a quick dash 
elopes with the subaltern's second piece of toast. 

This is all very good fun, and the subaltern gets 
up, shaves off three mysterious hairs which he calls 
his beard, and together with another chosen spirit 



JOINING 37 

goes forth before breakfast to see Abdul Rahman's 
celebrated Arab stables. 

But he is not allowed many hours for the delights 
of Bombay, and towards nightfall, in a very heated 
condition, he finds himself in a warm railway 
carriage. But here again he notices with gratifica- 
tion a kind of semi-royal state. At home he generally 
travelled third-class, unless his father was paying 
the fare, when he went first. But even thus he only 
sat up in a comfortably cushioned seat. But here his 
pal and he had a saloon to themselves, with a bed 
far larger than is supplied by the company of the 
wagon-lits, running down each side. 

On the floor between, his servant has placed his 
deck-chair, with his pyjamas over the back, and his 
slippers in front of it. And all free ; or even if he 
had to pay for it, only one penny per mile. 

A penny a mile reminds me of twopence a mile, 
at which rate in those days all Officers in England, 
even in mufti, could travel first class. A friend of 
mine, Tam Edwards, a very smart and good-looking 
young Officer, was travelling from Paddington to 
Bath. Going up to the ticket window he demanded 
an Officer's ticket. A very pert Cockney voice 
^ from inside snapped out : 
; " 'Ow am I to know you're an Orficer ? " 
I Tam bent down till his face was framed bv the 
I window, and remarked blandly : 
I "Look! deah fellah, look!'' 
I The ticket came out like a boomerang. 
j The disillusions come later, but not to our last- 
< joined subaltern. We were struck with the luxury 
j of our surroundings — saloon carriages, personal 
( servants waiting on us, measured and ample stop- 
I pages for prodigious meals, large cigars, fruit at 
1 every wayside station, crowds of picturesque natives. 
! At Allahabad we made our first stop of twenty- 
' four hours, and were again struck with the spacious- 



38 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

ness of everything. Ground was of no consequence 
in this immense continent. Each house stood in a 
great compound, some several acres in size. Even 
the Enghsh shops were not in a row, or street, side by 
side ; they also stood separate like baronial halls in 
great gardens. The roads looked as broad as the 
Thames, and were bordered by avenues of trees, 
and outside these trees, and between the road and 
the compound walls, were grass rides. 

Then we sped on to Lahore, and got our first 
experience of the size of India climatically. At 
Bombay we had worn the thinnest of Red Sea 
clothes, and felt exceedingly hot even in these. At 
Allahabad we did not notice much difference by 
day, but towards evening put on an extra garment 
or two. 

Arriving at Lahore in the ruby dawn, we found 
hoar frost on the ground, and felt excessively cold. 

In later years two friends of ours, who had just 
come through Canada in the winter, said they never 
felt such intense cold there as they did driving at 
dawn fifteen miles in an open dogcart in the 
northern corner of the Punjab. And those who 
have driven out to a meet of the Peshawar Vale 
Hounds, which pack meets habitually at dawn, 
because there is no scent after lo a.m., can cor- 
roborate this. 

At Lahore an old brother Officer of my father 
most hospitably received us, and his house being 
full, pitched tents for us in the compound. This 
was another new and enticing experience which 
appealed to us greatly. 

An old Indian Officer who had served long under 
my father came to see us, and, as is the polite custom 
of the country, placed his sword and his wealth at 
our feet. The sword is held lengthways, laid across 
the palms of his hand, and his wealth is symbolised 
by a few rupees in the palm of one hand. One is 



JOINING 39 

supposed to touch the sword and then the rupees, 
thus showing that one has graciously accepted them, 
and then remit them. 

Being quite ignorant of the etiquette of the East, 
and also of its language, I thanked the old gentleman 
heartily in English, of which he knew not a word, 
and said I already had a sword, but pocketed the 
rupees, being too recently from school to refuse a 
tip from any elderly gentleman. Our host was 
greatly amused at my gaucherie, and at once made 
me buy a present costing twice as much as the tip, and 
sent it to the old gentleman with my compliments. 

When we arrived in India, strong rumours were 
afloat that war with Afghanistan was imminent ; 
that an ultimatum had been sent to the Amir ; yet 
nothing certain was known. Nevertheless our 
friends advised us to lose no time in joining our 
regiments, especially those which lay at Peshawar, 
the very forefront of the coming campaign. In 
those days the railway was only constructed as far 
north as Jhelum ; thence to Peshawar, i8o miles 
of road had to be negotiated, in some sort of 
horse-drawn conveyance. The acknowledged means 
of transit then was a dak gharry, a sort of large 
packing-case on wheels, drawn by two ponies. 
Inside this two people could spread their beds, and 
slumber, or lie awake, through the many hours 
during which the machine rattled night and day. 
Every six or eight miles there was a change of ponies, 
and the start from each stage was like the start in a 
chariot race. Everyone shouted, and yelled, and 
cracked whips, and threw stones, and pushed and 
shoved ; till finally, with a wild plunge, off dashed 
into the darkness the fiery mustangs drawing the 
chariot. On the top of the dak gharry was piled 
the passengers' luggage, and in the crevices between 
these trunks and bundles squatted and slept the 
passengers' servants. 



40 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

Arrived at Jhelum, we found that the whole 
passenger service had been taken over by the 
mihtary authorities, and as its carrying capacity 
was very limited there was a heavy block. On 
reporting our arrival to the Staff Officer, and apply- 
ing for passage, we were informed that his orders 
were to send on officers strictly according to 
seniority. As we were mere cadets from Sandhurst, 
without any seniority at all, this looked very like 
settling down at Jhelum for the rest of our natural 
lives. We did indeed sit for two endless days and 
nights in the Dak Bungalow, and then an Angel 
appeared. It took the form of an Officer of the 
9th Lancers, and came in at 9 p.m., and said : " I 
say, young feller-me-lad, if you don't mind a dam' 
cold ride, and no baggage. 111 take you on top of 
my gharry, instead of my servant." Did I mind a 
cold ride and no baggage ? What a frightfully 
superfluous question ! Any one would have gone 
in bathing drawers and slippers, and the thermo- 
meter below zero, rather than miss such a chance. 
But wasn't he a noble fellow ? Fancy starting off 
on a campaign, and leaving your only servant 
behind, just to oblige an ugly boy from Sandhurst ! 

With the cheerful inconsequence of youth, and 
without another thought, I cast the whole of mj^ 
kit, tentage and equipage to the winds, and in five 
minutes had usurped the place of Ram Bux on top 
of a portmanteau, on the roof of my splendid 
friend's dak gharry. A wild blast on the driver's 
bugle, a clatter and a dash, and the crack of a whip, 
a heavy lurch and another, a perilous surge out of 
the gate, and we were off at full gallop up the road 
to Peshawar. 

It may be confessed now that it was one of the 
coldest drives experienced in a long, and at times 
very cold and chequered career. Only those whose 
pastime it is to search for the North Pole can quite 



JOINING 41 

appreciate the piercing cold of a Punjab winter 
night. And when one is rushing through that 
winter night perched on a pile of luggage, at a break- 
neck pace, with only a thin rug as a mild defence, 
one begins to appreciate what the. Chinese "No. i 
torture by cold " must be like. 

One tried to squeeze down between two boxes, 
but they were too tightly packed. One tried to 
smoke a pipe, and could not for the wind. Sleep 
one could not for the cold, as well as from an immi- 
nent fear of being shot off from an insecure perch. 
All that could be done to pass the time and keep 
from freezing, was to jump down at each stage and 
help to harness the horses, help to push and shout 
and start the team, and then, catching on behind, to 
make a wild scramble for one's perch on the roof. 
At the age of eighteen there is fun and excitement 
enough even in such simple pleasures as these. 

As day dawned and the sun arose, one began 
to thaw a bit, and shortly after we passed 
the nth Bengal Lancers marching to the front. 
It was the first Indian regiment I had seen, and 
what splendid fellows they looked, and how one 
envied the easy swagger with which a young fellow, 
not much older than myself, rode at the head of 
one of the squadrons ! They did not fail to notice 
me too, and were obviously enormously tickled at 
the young Officer, his costume, and mode of travel- 
ling. There was a second night like the last, but at 
midday on the second day we joyfully drove into 
Peshawar. 

** Well, what news ? Is there to be a war ? When 
does it begin ? Who is going ? " and a dozen more 
questions were fired at everyone, and anyone, in 
uniform. Nobody apparently knew anything 
definitely, but all were more, or less, full of un- 
reliable information. 

** Better run out and join your regiment, young- 



42 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

ster/' said my gth Lancer Trojan; "they are en- 
camped about five miles out towards the Khyber 
Pass, and there you will get in touch with what is 
going on." And so we parted, never to meet again, 
for the good God, who takes all brave warriors into 
His keeping, took him. May he rest in peace ! 
And none the less for having been kind to a friend- 
less boy. 

Having had a wash and a shave, and borrowed a 
shirt and a collar, and the use of a brush and comb, 
we hired a conveyance, locally known as a " tum- 
tum," — one wondered why — and pricked forth to 
find the regiment. 

About five miles out towards the Khyber Pass 
we entered a big camp, and were beginning to 
wander in our quest, when we came across a large 
tent. 

A pleasant-looking officer in " khaki " was 
smoking a cigar near the tent, and to him we 
addressed ourselves. 

" Can you very kindly tell us where the 17th are 
encamped ? " 

"Yes I can," he replied with great alacrity; 
" that's a conundrum I really can answer. You are 
standing bang in the middle of their camp now ! " 

" Thank you very much, sir, we have come to 
join." 

" Have you indeed ? That's splendid ! And 
what's your name, and yours ? We were expecting 
a batch of youngsters — * warts ' you are called, you 
know. Come along in, have some lunch. Welcome 
to the old 17th." 

We were led into a tent full of officers at lunch, 
first introduced to the Colonel, and then all round ; 
and every officer got up and shook us warmly by 
the hand, and said how glad they were to see us. It 
was indeed a warm and happy feeling to be taken 
straight, a poor dishevelled stranger, into the heart 



JOINING 43 

of that gallant regiment three hundred years old. 
They had nice manners in the Army m those days 
—and have still, for that matter, in good regiments. 
" Here is a place next me, youngster,"^ said a 
grizzled old veteran with Crimean medals, " and as 
I am your skipper you must come and lunch with 
me And opposite is your brother subaltern m our 
Company; he's got seventeen years' service, so 
there's a bit of a gap between you ! " 

My skipper himself had twenty-six years service, 
and had been a Captain since the Crimean War. 
The Colonel had commanded the regiment for over 
twenty years ; the Adjutant, the smartest of the 
smart, was a young subaltern of fourteen years^ 
service, and the men were mostly twenty-one years 
service men. At the time I said in my heart, may 1 
never see a smarter, or finer regiment, than this old 
17th Foot. But I did, for that same regiment 
served under me nearly forty years later m Mesopo- 
tamia, and was, if possible, braver and better than 
it had ever been. ^ 

In the midst of lunch, someone said : You are 
just in time, youngsters, we are starting at four 
o'clock this afternoon." 

" Starting where ? " we asked. 
" Haven't you heard ? The time of grace allowed 
the Amir expires at 4 o'clock to-day, and we start 
then to take the Khyber Pass, and storm Ali- 

Musjid." 

That scene and moment have often since come 
back to memory, and often since has one wondered 
at, and envied, the bright optimism of early youth. 
It' is hardly an everyday occurrence for anyone to 
travel 6000 miles, and arriving in time for lunch, 
to discover incidentally in the course of conversa- 
tion that one is expected to take part in a bloody 
battle, shortly after the completion of the meal ! 

" Hurrah ! ... but I've got no clothes ! ' for 



44 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

indeed my sole sartorial possessions were a travel- 
soiled tweed suit, and a white sun helmet. 

'' Oh ! we'll find you clothes," exclaimed half a 
dozen; " don't fret about that." 

And so they did. One produced a " khaki " coat, 
another a pair of trousers, and a third a pair of 
puttees. The Sergeant-Major lent me a sword-belt, 
and the Quartermaster produced a sword ; whilst 
my skipper's batman deftly ran up a khaki ba^ to 
cover my dazzling helmet. 

" We can't afford to lose you our first day," said 
the old Colonel, patting me kindly on the back. 

And so the lunch party broke up, as gay as gay 
True kmghts and British Ofiicers, walking brave and 
debonair, maybe towards glory, and maybe to- 
wards the pleasant fields of Heaven, where warriors 
rest. 



CHAPTER III 

THE KHYBER PASS 

Storming Ali-Musjid — The Repulse — Turning Movement of 2nd 
Brigade — A Midnight March — A Frosty Night— Adventures 
with a £)Aoo/y— Sugar for a Pillow — On Again at Dawn- 
Thomas Ananias — His Goodness — Great Toil in a Blazing Sun — ■ 
Another Cold Night 7000 Feet Up — Seventeen Sheep — Their 
Tragic Fate — The Boom of the Guns — The Enemy Cut Off — 
Surrenders — The Solitary Horseman — Enlists in The Guides 
Cavalry — Pathan Honour — Ali Gul, Subadar — His Home in 
Tirah — How to Get There — By Subtlety he Succeeds — His 
Return — That Subadar of the 26th Punjabis — The Vendetta — 
A Truce in British Territory — Two Soldiers of the King — 
Twelve Corpses Ahead — Death of Ali Gul — His Son — His 
Youthful Prowess — Enlisted in The Guides 

HOW the first attack on Ali-Musjid, on 
November 20th, 1878, was beaten back 
with bloody slaughter, and how after a 
night and a day that Fort, the key of the Khyber 
Pass, was taken, is written broad in the history of 
the Empire. In that decisive victory the 2nd 
Brigade bore no mean part, in fact it went far 
towards turning the tide of victory. For by a most 
arduous night march through stupendous moun- 
tains it dropped down on the rear of the Afghans 
and completed their discomfiture. The Brigade 
consisted of the 17th Foot, The Guides, and the 
ist Sikhs, under command of General Tytler, a fine 
old General of the best type. Little did I, the last- 
joined subaltern, think that I should one day 
command The Guides, still less did the dream occur 
of commanding, in the Great War, nearly forty years 
later, a Brigade in which both the 17th Foot and 
the 1st Sikhs^ would be included. 

^ Now the 51st Sikhs of immortal memory. 
45 



46 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

At 4 p.m. on a cold bright evening the 2nd Brigade 
pushed off on its venture ; at first across the level 
stony plain ; then into the foothills ; and as night 
fell, up the great mountain gorges. Here all sem- 
blance of a road disappeared, and a single file track, 
chiefly used by goats, led ever upward. Along this 
track for miles the brigade extended, worming its 
way steadily along. But oh ! the weariness of it, 
especially on a night dark, dark, dark — darker than 
the inside of a cow, as they say. Plodding along 
half asleep one suddenly loses the man in front, a 
dash on to catch him ends abruptly five yards ahead 
on the muzzle of a rifle. Then another long stand, 
first on one leg, then on the other, till the column 
begins to stir again. Then a few more steps forward, 
then another halt ; then another spasmodic burst after 
a lost leader ; and then the whole thing over again. 

The march thus continued till midnight, and by 
that time most of us had perhaps had enough of it. 
Here we found a small basin in the mountains ; 
the brigade was formed up in it, picquets posted, 
and all lay down where they were to pass the time 
as best they could till dawn. We were now about 
5000 feet up, midwinter in the Afghan mountains, 
and the cold was intense ; so much so that most of 
us spent the night prowling about to try and keep 
warm. 

In the course of one of these excursions I stumbled 
across a queer-looking object which on closer 
inspection proved to be a dhooly — that is to say, 
an ambulance litter, with curtains all round. On 
cautiously peering in I discovered a very comfort- 
able looking bed with several blankets and a 
pillow. Here was, in absence of sick and wounded, 
manifestly wicked waste of the more decent essen- 
tials of existence on a freezing night, and seemed 
more pronouncedly so in the midst of an ice-bound 
brigade. I therefore promptly decided that those 



THE KHYBER PASS 47 

blankets and that pillow should no longer feel 
shunned, and neglected, and short of a bedfellow. 
In two seconds, or less, I was securely ensconced 
and already fast asleep in this comfortable nest. 

Whether that sleep lasted for a few hours or only 
a few minutes, or merely a matter of seconds, is not 
quite clear. But what is perfectly clear is that in 
my distant dreams I felt myself being severely 
kicked, whilst seemingly a far off, very hearty voice, 
with a rich Irish brogue, was enquiring : " What the 
blank, blank, blankety blank d'ye mean by getting 
into a hospital bed, meant only for the sick and 
wounded, no less ! " The subaltern muttered 
sleepily and inconsequently : " Thanks very much, 
ole chap," and went off again into a death-like 
slumber for several hours, or it may be seconds. 
When he really did wake up he was on the ground 
outside the dhooly, and the brogue was in his late 
warm bed. But anyway he was a kindly brogue, 
and was saying: "Well, annyhow, sonny, here's 
one o' me blankets for ye, and there's a bag o' 
medical comforts for ye pillow." The bag of 
medical comforts proved to be a bag of brown 
sugar, and not too hard at that, and the blanket 
was a blanket and a godsend. So there under the 
lee of the doctor's dhooly the last-joined subaltern 
slept his first night under the frosty stars. 

Before dawn hot tea, without milk, but the most 
delicious ever tasted, was served out in tin mugs, 
and off we went again. Stumble, bang, halt, run 
on, bang, halt, crawl, in varying sequence, till the light 
strengthened, and then on once more steadily and 
quickly. About 9 o'clock one began to feel as if one 
had not had a single meal for several years, and in 
reality had not for upwards of eighteen hours' steady 
marching. But there are a wonderful number of 
kind people in this world, and soldiers and sailors 
are the kindest of all. 



4B A SOLDlER^S MEMORIES 

" Beg pardon, sir, but 'ere's a couple of 'ard boils ; 
I ain't no use for 'em," muttered a hardened old 
Thomas Ananias, with a beard and Crimean medals, 
pressing a couple of eggs into my hand. 

" I got more 'ard tack than I knows 'ow to 
carry," added a second benevolent descendant of 
the same patriarch, thrusting a square biscuit on 
me in a surreptitious manner. And so I ate and 
was thankful, and blessed the kind hearts of my 
dear friends, privates of the Line. It perhaps added 
a welcome glamour to the feast that I had left a 
small flask of brandy and three cigars, and these we 
three shared. 

All that day we plodded on in a blazing sun, 
which made a queer contrast to the deadly cold of 
the night before, and promoted a most unhallowed 
thirst with little to assuage it. At dusk we halted, 
wet through to our outer coats with perspiration, 
7000 feet up in the mountains, freezing hard, with 
a bitter wind blowing, and with no food, or great- 
coats. At this extremely appropriate moment The 
Guides captured a flock of sheep and sent along 
seventeen, the regimental number, to us. In the 
space of a very few minutes these had been killed, 
skinned, divided up, and were simmering on ram- 
rods, or toasting on bayonets. The toughness of 
this form of diet passes beHef, but anyway it is 
something to chew, and heartens one up quite a lot. 

Then followed another desperately cold night, 
with a biting wind, and the thermometer falling out 
of the bottom of itself. A little disturbed sleep 
there was, but mostly a weary tramp about the 
bivouac to keep warm. In fact we rather envied 
the Orderly Officers who had to trudge round the 
picquets and sentries all night ; they at any rate had 
an object for their walk. Next morning another 
glorious pannikin of tea, and then off again on our 
tramp. 



THE KHYBER PASS 49 

And now at length, after two nights and a day, we 
were to gather in the fruits of our labours. Far 
away we could hear the deep boom of guns ; at 
first faintly, and then more clearly, the fierce rattle 
of rifle fire. Everyone brightened up wonderfully. 
The Guides, as was their wont, dashed eagerly on, 
and we followed at our best pace. One last effort, 
and we found ourselves dropping down into the 
frowning gorges of the Khyber Pass, and had our 
first view of the battle. 

The Fort of Ali-Musjid stands on a precipitous 
rock completely barring passage through the Khyber 
Pass from the direction of India. In days of old it 
was held to be impregnable, for neither firearms nor 
cannon could range far enough, or hit hard enough, 
to injure it. Even in 1878 its defences were proof 
against any gun, or rifle fire, we had to bring against 
it. Shells from our batteries simply hit the rock 
and rolled back into the bed of the Pass, rifle bullets 
merely spluttered against stone walls. To scale the 
place for assault was like unto scaling St. Paul's 
Cathedral, only twice that height. Gun fire was 
tried, rifle was tried, and finally an assault was 
ordered. But all failed to shake, or move, the 
Afghan defenders. Thus it was that when night fell 
the remnants of the British attacking columns lay 
plastered against the face of the sheer rock, half- 
way up, and unable to advance, or retire. 

But the arrival of the 2nd Brigade, after its 
arduous detour, altered all this ; for an Afghan, or 
indeed any Asiatic, has an exceedingly delicate 
feeling for his rear. " Perchance I shall be bitten 
behind," is what he thinks, and immediately looks 
around for a means of escape. There were two 
means of escape, one over the mountains through 
the land of the Afridis, and another along the bed 
of the Khyber Pass. Both were fraught with 
undesirable dangers, but either was held preferable 



50 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

to being slaughtered in front, and rear, at the self- 
same moment. So a general retreat was ordered, 
and some went one way, and some the other. 
Those who trusted to the hospitality of the Afridis, 
counting them as allies and co-religionists against 
the Unbelievers, fared scantily, for they were robbed 
of their arms and clothing and then allowed to 
escape, thus meagrely clad, into their own country. 
Those who chose the Pass route had to count with 
the 2nd Brigade. 

By this time The Guides and ist Sikhs held 
strong positions astride of the Pass, whilst the 
17th Foot stood in reserve. Into this cul-de-sac 
marched the Afghan infantry, and the action was 
short, sharp, and decisive. Practically the whole 
force was killed, wounded, or captured ; one 
squadron of cavalry alone managing to charge 
through, leaving however many casualties in horses 
and men. For those were days before machine 
guns were invented, and the infantry rifle a single 
loader, not accurate much over 400 yards. The 
old Snider was, however, a smasher when it did 
hit, and cushy wounds were rare as apricots in 
April. 

Slowly following the Afghan cavalry appeared a 
solitary horseman, with his sword drawn, and riding 
at his leisure. He came perfectly undisturbed 
through a tornado of bullets, merely waving his 
sword in defiance at those periods when it became 
hottest. Probably a thousand men had a shot at 
that solitary figure, but he rode on undismayed and 
untouched. Here was a brave man indeed ! By 
order of the Colonel of The Guides the bugles blared 
out the " cease fire," and as the call echoed through 
the mountains there succeeded a dead calm. A 
child's voice might have been heard. The horse- 
man rode on calmly, till a voice hailed him : 

"Who art thou, O Warrior, and whence comest. 



THE KHYBER PASS 51 

and whither goest ? The Commander of The Guides 
would have speech with thee." 

" My name is ' Such-a-one,' I am a warrior of the 
sword, and fear no one. What sayest thy Master ? " 
*' He would speak with thee, as touching thy 
bravery. Fear not treachery, thy life is in the 
Sahib's keeping. Tether thy horse and come up 
and speak with the Colonel Sahib, the great 
warrior." 

" I consent. The Sahibs are clean folk." 
So up came " Such-a-one," and the parley 
between him and the Colonel of The Guides was 
short and to the point. 

** By Jove ! you are a brave fellow ! " 
" At your Honour's service." 
" Will you enlist in The Guides ? I'll make you 
a Duffadar^ straight away. Brave men are what I 
want." 

" I accept your Honour's offer, with pleasure." 
It brought one back to the days of long ago, 
when gallant knights went cruising about the 
world spoiling for a fight, it mattered little, seem- 
ingly, in what cause, or under whose banner. 
Fighting was what they were seeking ; and honour, 
and glory, and ladies' gloves. 

And so it was with " Such-a-one." 
Pathan Honour is a curious thing and can best 
be illustrated by relating the case of Ali Gul. 

Ali Gul, Subadar, was one of the bravest men in 
The Guides. He had twice won the Order of Merit, 
the highest reward for valour then open to the 
Indian soldier, and would have won it a third time 
or perished in the attempt, had he been allowed to. 
This was on the way to Lhassa, when serving under 
my brother Frank. The Expedition had reached 
the Brahmaputra River, here 150 yards wide, and 
running deep and strong, with icy cold snow water. 

1 Sergeant. 



52 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

The Thibetans had removed all available boast 
to the far bank, and the advance was at a deadlock. 
Seeing the dilemma, Ali Gul at once volunteered to 
swim across the river in face of the enemy, and 
bring back a boat. His Commanding Officer could 
not, however, spare so valuable a Native Officer for 
so desperate a venture, and forbade him to make 
the attempt. Whereupon two more men of The 
Guides at once stepped forward, and said that they 
would go. Of these one was drowned, or hit by a 
bullet, on the way across, and was never seen 
again ; whilst the other, Sobat by name, succeeded 
in this desperate venture, and alone, naked and 
unarmed, cut out a boat from under the enemy's 
bank of the river, and brought it back. That was a 
well-earned Order of Merit. 

This story, however, is not about Ali Gul's 
military career, but about Pathan Honour. One 
day in August a few years back, Ali Gul came, as 
the custom is, to pay his respects, and to say good- 
bye before he went on three months' leave to his 
home. His home being in Tirah, in the land of the 
Afridis. I wished him good-bye, and hoped he would 
have a pleasant holiday. With a half-sheepish and 
half -bashful air, he muttered something about " he 
hoped so too." Then shaking hands, and making a 
military salute, he gathered on his shoes at the door, 
in due sequence, and departed. 

To my surprise, about a week after I saw him in 
the lines, and hailed him. 

" Hullo ! Ali Gul, what are you doing here ? 
WTiy haven't you gone on leave ? " 

" Some business. Sahib, some urgent business has 
kept me," he said aloud. And then, as we strolled 
on, away from listeners, he added in a low murmur : 
" I couldn't get through, so came back." 

" How do you mean, you couldn't get through ? 
Why, it is your own country, and your own home." 



THE KHYBER PASS 53 

" Without doubt. Sahib, but unfortunately I have 
many enemies in my own country ; and though 
they dare not touch me, or molest me in the country 
of the British Government, yet the moment I set 
foot across the border I carry my life in my hands." 

" That seems a singularly rotten state of affairs. 
Why don't you settle in British territory then ? " -j 

" Well, Sahib, I have often thought of doing so, 
but I have a good deal of land in Tirah, and many 
relations there, and I cannot manage it yet." 

" What's going to happen now then ? Are you 
giving up your leave ? " 

" No, Sahib, I have sent scouts round to see 
whether I can get to my home by another route." 

" Well, may you be fortunate, and may your 
Kismet be good." 

And we parted. 

A few days after that Ali Gul had disappeared 
from the lines. So we concluded that he had managed 
to elude the vigilance of his enemies, and had reached 
his home. 

At the end of three months I noticed Ali Gul at 
the Commanding Officer's bi-weekly durbar, and 
asked him to come up and see me at my house 
afterwards. 

After the usual salutations, and the [reiterated 
enquiries after each other's health, customary on 
these occasions, *' Are you well ? " " Are you quite 
well ? " " Are you very well indeed ? " " You are 
feeling quite strong ? " had been worked through, 
I said : 

'' Well, Ali Gul, what sort of leave did you have ? 
Enjoyed yourself ? Had a good rest ? " 

" To tell the truth. Sahib, I did not have a very 
good time, or a good rest, for I was shut up all the 
time in my fortified tower." 

" That is very sad ; and what illness were you 
suffering from ? " 



54 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

" None at all, Sahib ; but " (with a broad grin) " I 
should have suffered from a very bad one if I had 
put my face out of doors." 

" How so ? " 

" Well, Sahib, it is like this. A Subadar of the 
26th Punjabis and myself are deadly enemies. We 
have a blood feud. And most unfortunately his 
tower is only about two hundred yards away from 
mine, and the moment I show my face he has a shot 
at me. I also in my turn lose no opportunity of 
having a shot at that Subadar. Under these circum- 
stances neither of us, nor any of our relations, could 
go out at all, so all our land lies uncultivated, and 
we were unable to sow our autumn crop." 

" A Subadar of the 26th Punjabis ! " I exclaimed. 
" Why, I have seen you and him at the same winter 
manoeuvres, and even quartered together in the same 
cantonment, and apparently on quite friendly terms." 

** That is so, your Honour. As long as we are 
under the British flag we sink our private feuds, 
and serve the King faithfully side by side. But when 
we go home across the border, there it is otherwise. 
There Pathan Honour has to be satisfied." 

" Well, I must say you are a pair of donkeys. 
Here you are one da}^ and in one country, on 
perfectly friendly terms with each other ; and on 
another day, in another country, not only try to 
kill each other, but bring ruin to each other's crops 
and cattle." 

" That is so. Sahib, but it is Pathan Honour." 

'• Oh, rubbish ! " said I. " Now look here, both 
you and the Subadar of the 26th Punjabis are good 
soldiers and excellent fellows, and have served the 
same King long and faithfully. Why not, like 
sensible fellows, make friends, and give up this 
highly idiotic feud ? " 

Ali Gul simply beamed on me with great warmth, 
and replied : 



THE KHYBER PASS 55 

" That, Sahib, is exactly what I say. That is 
exactly the message I have frequently sent to that 
Subadar of the 26th Punjabis, through the medium 
of friends ; but he is an obstinate fellow, he will not 
consent." 

*' Well, I'll try and get hold of him and have a 
talk with him. I hate to see two fine fellows like 
you out against each other." 

" Without doubt, your Honour. You speak 
words of great wisdom. There is, however, one 
obstacle in the way of a settlement. The Subadar 
of the 26th Punjabis says I am twelve corpses ahead 
of him ; and that he cannot make peace, because 
of Pathan Honour, till he is even with me." 

" Twelve corpses ! What do you mean ? " 

"It is thus true. Sahib," replied Ali Gul with 
great frankness, and an open and engaging smile. 
" I and my family have killed forty of his people, 
and he and his have killed only twenty-eight of 
mine, and so I am twelve corpses ahead of him. 
And it would not in the least matter if he, or I, or 
both, were killed ; our families would carry on the 
feud till one family or the other was wiped out, or 
at any rate till our scores were even." 

I met the Subadar of the 26th Punjabis shortly 
after, for he was under my command in the Derajat, 
and had a talk with him about Ali Gul and their 
mutual feud. 

" Yes," he said, " Ali Gul is a splendid fellow, and 
a great warrior, and a deadly shot, and I would like 
much to end the feud ; yet Pathan Honour forbids 
me to do so, till I am even with him." 

But Ali Gul died in his bed after all, poor fellow, 
and not at the hands of the Subadar of the 26th 
Punjabis ! For one Christmas he sent word for me to 
come and see him in hospital, and when I came in 
he struggled up to a sitting position in his bed and 
gave the military salute, and with the same frank 



56 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

smile, but not the same strong voice, he whispered : 
" The Subadar of the 26th Punjabis hasn't killed 
me after all," and sank back on his pillow. That 
night he died of pneumonia. 

But before we leave Ali Gul, the bravest of the 
brave, let me tell you a story about his son. 

Ali Gul was himself a great stalwart fellow, over 
six feet in height, and hard as nails all over. When 
men are candidates for enlistment into The Guides 
it is customary for their relations, or friends, in the 
regiment to bring them up in open durbar for the 
Colonel's approval. The Colonel then tells them to 
strip, and looks them over, and if he approves, sends 
them to the doctor to be " vetted," as it is collo- 
quially called. Usually, however, a Native Officer, 
if he is bringing up a friend, or relation, and much 
more so a son, will very usually take an opportunity 
of showing the candidate privately beforehand to 
the Colonel, at his bungalow ; so that he may not 
incur the shame, as he calls it, of having his man 
rejected in public. 

I have known men of the best blood in Asia, 
Princes of the blood Royal, commence their military 
career as plain troopers in The Guides Cavalry. 
When I joined there were two, one Shahzada (that 
is, son of a king) Taimus, and the other Shahzada 
Jehangir. One was a trooper, and the other had 
just worked up to a commission. Both were of 
royal blood in the dynasties of Afghanistan. In 
later years the Prince of Bokhara joined as a 
trooper, but died before he was given a commission. 
Amongst the troopers was to be seen, as keen and 
eager as any, a young landlord with rich territories 
whose rent-roll might be anything up to ^20,000 a 
year. 

One day at durbar, Ali Gul appeared with what 
we thought rather a weak and undersized youth, 
and when other business was over put him forward 



THE KHYBER PASS 57 

amongst the other recruits for inspection, announc- 
ing that he was his son. Everyone looked at the 
Colonel, and then at the lad, for he was manifestly 
not up to the standard of The Guides in physique 
and general appearance. 

" Quite so, quite so, Ali Gul, a nice boy, I am sure. 
Bring him up to my house after, and we'll have a 
talk about him." 

But Ali Gul was not to be put off. 

" I know. Sahib," he proceeded with great blunt- 
ness, " what is in your Honour's mind. You think 
he is not good enough for The Guides." ^^ 

" Well, well, I won't say that exactly, but perhaps 
in another year, and with lots of good food, he 
would fill out and become a man like his father. 
Anyway, I won't look at him now, bring him up to 
my house later." 

" I thought so, your Honour, you don't think 
him good enough for you. Now let me tell you a 
little story. The lad is only seventeen years old, 
and the other day he and another lad were working 
their way home from the Khyber Pass into Tirah. 
Each of them had a Martini-Henri carbine, which, 
as your Honour knows, fires black powder and 
makes great smoke. As the two boys were going 
along they were attacked by three of my enemies, 
full-grown men with beards, and each armed with 
a Lee-Metford rifle firing smokeless powder. Well, 
they had a regular fight these five, and my boy shot 
two of the enemy and brought away their rifles. 
Now, is he good enough for you or not ? " And the 
proud father looked first at the Colonel and then 
round the assembled durbar. 

" Good enough for me, Ali Gul ? Yes, certainly 
he is. He is enlisted from this moment." 

** Shahbash ! " said everyone solemnly. 



CHAPTER IV 

A SUBALTERN'S FIRST BATTLE 

One in Six are Fighting Men — The Soldier's Medal— A Boy in his 
First Battle — Reveille — The Colour-Sergeant — Cavalry and 
Horse Artillery Move Off — ^Enemy's Counter-Attack — Arrival 
of Infantry — First Casualties — David and Goliath- — A Drama 
in Seconds — "The Cavalry! The Cavalry!" — The Guides 
Charge — The loth Hussars Charge— The Pursuit — Victory — 
And After — A Cavalry Subaltern — His First Experience — A 
Deadly Ordeal — The War- Horse in the Bible — Manoeuvring for 
Position — Charged by a Lancer — A Collision — Saved by a 
Sowar — The Trumpeter's White Horse — Charging with Long 
Hair Streaming in the Wind — Single Engagements — The Rally 
— Back to Camp — Cheered by the Infantry — " The Green 
Curve " 

NOWADAYS a good many people have been 
in battle, though not quite so many as are 
imagined. For it is a curious and concrete 
fact that five out of every six men we meet in 
uniform, and even decorated with medals, have 
never seen a shot fired, or been in any great danger 
of their lives, from the shot or shell of the enemy. 
It is only the one man out of six who has really 
been through the fiery furnace, and he perchance 
very often. 

It may surprise some people to hear that great 
muscular fellows who would be a credit to the 
Grenadier Guards, of set and deliberate purpose 
enlist in corps where the risks of battle are remote. 
These fine fellows not infrequently exhibit, by 
right, quite an imposing row of medals, and amongst 
their female friends possibly pass as the fiercest of 
warriors. This is one of the sore points in the 
Army ; there is little to distinguish between the 

58 



A SUBALTERN'S FIRST BATTLE 59 

fighting soldier and the soldier who has never 
fought, and has no intention whatever of fighting. 

What we of the fighting line think is that no man 
should wear a medal, or medals, except such as are 
earned on the battlefield, and in actual contact 
with the enemy. There are numerous other, and 
more suitable, methods of rewarding or decorating 
those who help the Army in many other useful ways, 
but it seems to us old soldiers that there should be 
no mistake possible between the battle soldier, and 
those who assist from the rear. 

It is a stock question, generally propounded at 
tea, or other inconvenient occasion, and not infre- 
quently by an intense but highly well-meaning 
lady : 

" How did you feel in your first battle ? " 

The much embarrassed subaltern will probably 
reply : " Oh ! all right, thanks, have another bun," 
and skilfully skates off any further allusions to his 
military career. 

But in the quiet seclusion of these pages perhaps 
one out of many thousands may give a somewhat 
more detailed reply. 

We had been in several " scraps," as the soldier 
calls them — that is, mild skirmishes, night attacks, 
attacks on convoys, and the other small fry of 
campaigning — and thus were fairly familiar with the 
singing and swishing of a few occasional bullets, in 
or about our immediate vicinity. Yet we youngsters 
had not hitherto been in a stark and straight up- 
right battle, where two armies are facing each other 
and mean fighting. Not a sudden battle either, but 
one we know is going to take place next morning. 
Of the night before one's chief recollection is that 
of praying with great earnestness, and now looking 
back on it, with a somewhat naive insistence, to be 
spared to live through the day, making perhaps a 
slight reservation in favour of a glorious, but not 



6o A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

fatal, wound. It seemed such a pity to the interested 
person, and indeed it is, that a boy of eighteen 
should be gathered to his fathers ; and I am not 
sure that this point of view was not brought to the 
notice of the Almighty ! 

Thus at peace with ourselves and all the world, 
we slept as sound as ever man, or boy, slept, and I 
personally was dreaming just before dawn of a 
singularly enticing and desperate football match, 
when eight buglers standing in a row and blowing 
the ** Reveille " brought us back to soldiering, and 
the matter in hand. Those, you will notice, were 
days before a bugle, or trumpet, on service was 
looked on as a deadly snare. 

We had all slept in our clothes, and boots, and 
belts, so that the morning toilet consisted merely of 
getting up, having a stretch, and putting on a much 
squashed helmet which had been used as a pillow 
during the night. There was burning close by a 
rather enticing fire, and on it sat a still more enticing 
cauldron. Out of this, Hebe, disguised as our Colour- 
Sergeant, shortly extracted tin mugs of hot tea, 
and presented them to us. 

" Take that, sir, it'll warm ye up." And so it 
did, bless him ! He was the kindest fellow on earth, 
that Colour-Sergeant ; old enough to be our father, 
he always watched over us, in or out of action, 
as if our precious lives were specially entrusted to 
his stalwart keeping. Perhaps they were. 

Soon after daylight we saw the Cavalry, followed 
by the Horse Artillery, moving off, whilst we of the 
Infantry Brigade also fell in, and received our pre- 
liminary orders. The enemy held a line of low 
ridges about a couple of miles away, and as the light 
strengthened his standards could be seen fluttering 
clear along the crest line. The Horse Artillery were 
to shell this crest whilst the Cavalry moved away 
to a flank, and the Infantry made a frontal attack 



A SUBALTERN'S FIRST BATTLE 6i 

so as to drive the enemy into the Cavalry net. The 
battle commenced as intended, but did not continue 
quite so. For the enemy, being not much hurt or 
intimidated by the shell fire, conceived the incon- 
venient notion of charging down and capturing our 
guns before the Infantry could arrive. 

Once an Afghan horde is set going in one of these 
mad charges, it takes a good deal to stop it. Conse- 
quently, when the Infantry came up we found a 
very critical state of affairs. The guns, run back by 
hand and firing reversed shrapnel ; the Cavalry 
unable to get home an effective charge owing to a 
deep nullah which ran between us and the enemy ; 
the enemy yelHng and shouting words of abuse and 
contempt, and steadily advancing, firing heavily all 
the while. We were now well into our first battle, 
and to tell the honest truth, I don't remember 
thinking about anything in particular, or out of the 
way. 

There were certainly a great number of bullets 
swishing past, over, under, and on each side, 
but the thought did not in the least occur that 
there was anything particularly personal about 
them. Perhaps, though young in years, we had got 
intuitively the real hang of it, and grasped the fact 
that these swishing bullets had long since passed 
over, or to one side. The first man knocked over 
was a private in our Company, but there was 
nothing in the least gruesome or dispiriting about 
it. On the contrary, to hear his cheery : 

" I'm all right, sir, till the doctor comes up. 
Thankee, sir, I'll just take a pipeful," made it 
seem like an exciting game. 

A few steps on Malony, the comedian and horn- 
pipe dancer, went down without a sound, but he 
did not look dead somehow, only sleeping. 

The arrival of the Infantry steadied matters a 
bit, and as we formed line and advanced, firing, the 



62 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

enemy hesitated, and then halted. We too now lay 
down to take breath, not many yards from our 
opponents, before fixing bayonets and charging. It 
was in this brief moment of respite that we lost a 
brother subaltern, and lately my tent comrade. We 
were all flattened down as close as we could, and I 
remember considering a stone the size of a cocoa-nut, 
which was my only shelter, a somewhat meagre 
defence against a Snider bullet. Then suddenly to 
our right front occurred a drama in seconds. 

A very small officer appeared sprinting as hard as 
he could, and all alone, straight for a huge giant who, 
standard in hand, was leading on a knot of Afghans. 
The little Englishman was not unlike David attack- 
ing Goliath, but his only weapon was a very diminu- 
tive and light tailor-made sword, such as an officer 
wears at State Balls, or Levees. With this child's 
weapon he dashed straight at the giant and ran him 
through the stomach up to the hilt. Then we saw 
him in difficulties, tugging to get his sword out. 
This all happened in a flash, and in another flash 
all those lying handy were up and after him at 
their best speed. How we raced across that rock- 
strewn strip, not more than fifty yards or so ! The 
men fixed bayonets as they ran, and were yelling 
like fury in English and any language, abuse, oaths, 
threats. Anything to stay the drama for one 
moment. In the next we were into them in a wild 
melee ; hitting, thrusting, cursing, kicking, throwing 
stones, clubbing rifles, firing pistols. The devil's 
own delight ! 

But alas ! and for ever alas ! too late ! In those 
brief seconds, whilst trying to withdraw his sword, 
our comrade was cut to pieces, and lay dead on the 
ground. 

Where we had hit it the enemy's line caved in, 
which was not to be wondered at, for we had hit it 
hard. But to our surprise we saw not only the few 



A SUBALTERN'S FIRST BATTLE 63 

dozens, or few hundreds, before us begin to fall back, 
but a sort of panic seemed to be seizing the rest, and 
echoing faintly down the line we heard the dread 
cry : " Risalla ! Risalla ! " " The Cavalry ! The 
Cavalry ! " 

Looking along to our right we saw a brave sight, 
the bravest possible — a body of Cavalry charging. 
It was none other than the renowned Cavalry of 
The Guides, which by a wonderful effort had crossed 
the seemingly impassable nullah, and was now 
falling with dauntless fury on ten times their 
numbers of the enem.y. They whirled past us, and 
we, cheering like mad, dashed after them. 

It is a splendid sight, such as no other perhaps 
equals, the wild charge of horsemen. Each man 
going for all he is worth, yelling to Allah, or other 
deity, to help him ; yelling curses the most blood- 
curdling on his enemy ; low bent so as almost to be 
lying along his horse's neck, and swish after swish, 
bringing his keen curved sword on to the head, or 
neck, or back, of a flying enemy. 

No time here for quarter, given or taken. The 
pursued, when overtaken, stops, turns, fires point- 
blank at his pursuer, or slashes at him with his long 
knife, and next instant either escapes unscathed, or 
goes down like a blade of corn. These were separate 
single combats, but here and there were little 
miniature battles, where clumps of the enemy had 
got together, and where clumps of The Guides were 
attacking them. These seemed always tough knots, 
and we could see many a horse and man go down 
before the knot was cut. 

Then came the loth Hussars, charging in more 
regular fashion, and doing bravely their share of the 
pursuit. Next, with a rattle and clatter and bang, 
up came the Horse Artillery, and began planting 
shells amongst the larger and more distant groups, 
and these too now began to melt away ; and soon 



64 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

the whole plain behind the ridge was covered with 
flying figures. 

Flying much too fast for us on foot to catch them, 
but the sun still glittered on the blades of the 
Cavalry as they hunted on, till at last man and horse 
could do no more. The sword arm was weary, and 
could no longer rise to strike ; and the horse, ready 
to drop with fatigue, could barely be urged out of a 
walk. The Cavalry had shot its bolt, and four 
hundred of the enemy, killed with the sword, lay 
along that stricken line of flight. 

And so ended our first battle, a day full of adven- 
ture, with some honour and not a little glory ; more 
exciting than any of our schoolboy games. Even 
the long, weary march back to camp failed to freeze 
the tingle down, and it was only late at night when, 
dog-tired, stumbling into the tent and lighting the 
lantern, we noticed one little camp bed empty, 
never to be filled again. 

Such is the experience of an Infantry subaltern 
in his first battle, but that of the Cavalry subaltern 
is perhaps even more exciting. 

A Cavalry charge is a Cavalry charge, and there 
is nothing on earth to equal it. Bayonet charges 
are all very well in their way, and Artillery tornadoes 
are most inspiring, especially if it is our own Artillery 
shooting. But the whirlwind charge of Cavalry 
lifts the soldier's soul above all things. 

There were only two British Officers with the 
squadron, the Captain and the subaltern, and in 
the course of a fairly sanguinary battle they had 
been sent out to watch a flank with orders to charge 
when they saw a chance of doing so effectively. 
All the first part was deadly slow, very cold, and 
distinctly dangerous ; in a nerve-trying, cold- 
blooded, beastly way. They were told not to dis- 
mount, but just to keep cruising about ; to show 
themselves as much as possible, a sort of moving 



A SUBALTERN'S FIRST BATTLE 65 

menace. Of course, it is evident what that means. 
It means that the more you show yourself, the more 
every infernal fellow shoots at you. And a squadron 
of Cavalry mounted is a fairly, big and apparent 
target at the best of times, even against inaccurate 
short-range weapons. The squadron therefore lost 
quite a lot of men and horses during that slow 
patrolling up and down. 

" Troops right about wheel." " Forward." 
** Troops left about wheel." " Forward." Back- 
wards and forwards for an hour or more — it seemed 
more like a year to the squadron, — and then went 
another squish, thud, and down went another horse, 
or man. There were thirty-eight casualties, men and 
horses, during that deadly and eternal promenade. 

You can imagine then with what joy they saw a 
Staff Oihcer, lying low down on his horse's neck, 
and sprinting for them, as if finishing for the Gold 
Cup at Ascot. He did not stop long either, he just 
said : " You can charge now," and, wheeling round, 
sprinted back to the haven behind the hill. That is 
the most joyous moment for the Cavalry soldier, to 
be let loose in a glorious charge ! The subaltern 
had as a charger a very sporting little bay Arab, 
full of blood, very quick and handy, and not to be 
daunted by anything. Like the war-horse in the 
Bible, he had been sniffing the battle from afar, and 
had been stepping about on the very tips of his toes, 
with his head in the air, nostrils wide open, snorting 
again and again, and again and again giving short 
excited squeals. His tail arched up and cocked to 
one side, as only can a high-caste Arab. Every time 
the troops wheeled about he gave a hilarious dash 
round, as much as to say, " Now we're off, any- 
how!" 

The moment that Staff Officer came in sight he 
spotted him, and he knew exactly what he was 
coming for, and understood exactly what he said. 



66 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

for he gave a wriggle and a squeak of joy. That 
Arab's name was " Mars," and he was the joy of his 
owner's life. His first charger, and in his eyes 
perfection ; never was there such a horse before, or 
since. Extraordinarily good friends they were, those 
two, horse and man who went out to battle together, 
for the master used to sit by the hour by his horse 
to see him groomed and fed, and always had a 
carrot, or something sweet in his pocket for him. 
The rascal knew this, and often at odd times, on 
picquet or elsewhere, would poke about his master's 
pockets for a scrap. 

" Right wheel into line." " Trot." Came from 
the Captain. But " Mars " was much too excited 
to trot, and was dancing about like a sportive kid, 
reaching at his bridle, and throwing his mane and 
tail about in the most profligate manner. Mean- 
while the Captain with his trumpeter had galloped 
on to look over a rise in the ground which the 
squadron was approaching. It was the subaltern's 
job to stay with the squadron and watch his 
Captain and interpret the signals which he made, 
and in accordance with these to manoeuvre the 
squadron into place. The Captain just peeped 
over the ridge and blew softly on his whistle to 
catch the subaltern's eye ; then signalled for troops 
to wheel to the right, and move further down the 
valley. The Captain and his trumpeter walked 
slowly along just below the sky-line, and the sub- 
altern dropped behind the squadron to watch him, 
and take his signals. When the squadron had 
trotted a few hundred yards the soft whistle was 
again heard, and the signal came, " Left wheel into 
line." At the same moment the Captain galloped 
smartly along, and just got into place in front of 
the squadron as it crested the rise. 

At first glance it was rather dijfficult to make out 
what was happening in the stony plain beyond. 



A SUBALTERN'S FIRST BATTLE 67 

There appeared to be a confused mass of men and 
horses in the near distance, and further away some 
guns firing rapidly. A continuous crackle of rifle 
fire split the air on every side. Just in front and a 
little below was a body of the enemy's cavalry, 
moving at a good hard gallop straight at the 
squadron, but most of the men seemed to be looking 
behind them. Their leader then suddenly saw what 
he was up against, and sheered off to his left at his 
best pace, followed by his horsemen. Only one 
solitary horseman, armed with a twelve-foot lance, 
came straight at the squadron. He was charging at 
full gallop, leaning well down on his horse's neck, 
yelling like a fiend and brandishing his lance, as is 
the custom with the wild horsemen of the East, even 
when only tent pegging. 

When he got fairly close, a hundred yards or so 
away, he steadied his lance, and could be seen now 
coming straight for the centre of our squadron. 
The squadron also was moving at a smart gallop 
towards the solitary horseman, who was evidently 
out to die. 

Now some people are fond of deprecating the 
lance ; they say it is heavy, unwieldy, and hampers 
a man. Quite so, but if you ever happen to be 
situated as were the British Officers at that moment, 
with no weapon of offence or defence but a poky 
little sword, perhaps you might take a different 
view. Of course, theoretically the gallant swords- 
man with one turn of the wrist thrusts the lance 
aside, and with another deft turn spits the rash 
lancer through the waistcoat or other vulnerable 
part. In practice, however, if the lancer means 
business, he will have two feet of lance through you 
before your turn comes. On the present occasion 
the subaltern did not exactly know what had 
happened till afterwards, his last clear impression 
being that of a tremendous crash in which he and 



68 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

his horse and several other horses and men seemed 
to take part. 

Then from very far away in distant halls he heard 
a voice say : " Not hurt, youngster ? " And some 
one else seemed to answer : " No, I am all right." 
Next the subaltern found himself rather mistily and 
without a sword clambering on to " Mars' " back. 
" Mars " was very dirty, mud and sweat combined, 
as if he had been rolling on the ground, which indeed 
he had. He was blowing too a good deal, but was 
now as eager as ever to be off. Apparently what 
had happened previous to the crash was this. A 
Sikh trooper in the ranks seeing the approaching 
peril, yelled out : 

" Fear not, Sahib, I am present." 

And so he was manfully and at the right moment, 
for dashing forward he got a little more than level 
with his Officer, and a horse's length or so to his 
right ; so that just before the wild lancer's weapon 
reached its goal, which was the subaltern's chest, 
the Sikh caught him at an angle, man and horse, on 
his disengaged bow. When three horses, and three 
riders, thus meet at speed there is naturally a 
holocaust on the ground, and over this those who 
cannot elude it also stumble and fall. Thus there 
was a pretty to-do of horses and men on top of the 
subaltern, and there is little wonder that he was a 
little dazed for a moment or two. Truth to tell, so 
was the enemy lancer, but the Sikh was all right, and 
as the lancer rose to his feet he was a dead man, or 
a prisoner. I think he chose to be a dead man, for 
he was, as I have said, out to die that day. 

Meanwhile the squadron had gone on in pursuit, 
and the subaltern, with his friend the Sikh and one 
or two others who had involuntarily stayed behind, 
set off to pick it up. The men of the squadron were 
now scattered in pursuit over a broad stony plain ; 
some singly and some in couples, mostly couples, 



A SUBALTERN'S FIRST BATTLE 69 

and some in groups ; but right far ahead could be 
recognised the white horse of the Captain's trumpeter, 
and that meant the Captain. It was Hke a panorama, 
and when one saw a Httle figure drop in the plain 
one hardly realised it was a man killed, or badly 
wounded. Some of our men had lost their pugarees 
in the melee, and these were fearsome and awe- 
inspiring tragedians. A Sikh with hair, long as a 
woman's, streaming in the wind, bending low and 
hard forward, yelling like a fiend, and bringing his 
curved sword down on all and sundry with a soft 
whistling drawing cut, is like a demon of dark 
dreams. Occasionally to be seen were individuals, 
or knots of men, who stood at bay, and these cost 
some lives to the pursuers, and many wounds. 
Gradually and by hard riding the late arrivals made 
their way up to where the white horse marked the 
Captain's position, and when they got there they 
found everything, as the Captain expressed it, 
" pretty stony cold." The men, though greatly 
elated, were tired, so tired that only the strongest 
could still raise an arm to strike. The horses, in a 
muck sweat and greatly blown, could scarcely move 
out of a walk. Indeed, one Duffadar might be seen 
whose horse had literally come to a standstill, whilst 
he and a dismounted enemy were fiercely bandying 
words, as is the custom in the East, addressing to 
each other most scandalous remarks regarding the 
morals and general respectability of the other's 
female relations. 

" Son of a pig, just wait till I catch thee ! " 

" Misbegotten offspring of an ape, thou art 
afraid ! Why not spur thy horse forward ? " 

Wild endeavour on the part of the Duffadar to 
get his horse to move. First heels and spurs, 
then the flat of his sword. Each in turn and all 
together, brought to bear. 

" Wilt thou surrender, son of a burnt father, 



70 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

whose mother is no better than she ought to be ? 
If not, I will call one of my comrades to kill thee." 

" To hell with thee and thy comrades, Kafirs 
and sons of Kafirs, I'll fight the ********" 

There is a whirl, and a rush, and a yell, and a 
crash ! A Sowar has dashed past. And as he passed, 
caught the last speaker fair in the chest, drove his 
lance clean through him, turned him a complete 
somersault, broke the lance short off, and dis- 
appeared into the dust beyond. 

The Captain now ordered the trumpeter to sound 
the rally, and the men slowly collected. A very 
dishevelled and heated crowd. With smeared 
sword -blades, broken lances, lost head-dresses ; 
blood-stains on men, on horses, and on clothes. 
Horses wounded and dead beat, but still bravely 
holding up. Men in great spirits, recounting their 
exploits, and not noticing the chips, and slices, and 
grazes. The Captain's cross-belt had been cut in 
two across the back. A deft back-hander dealt a 
shade too late, but exactly when he could not 
remember. 

Slowly the small remnant of a squadron wended 
its way back. And as good luck would have it, 
chanced across a stream, and a good drink, and a 
long drink, for horse and man. It was rather like 
going back, in cold blood, over a country one has 
hunted over in hot blood. The fences seem enor- 
mous ; the brooks little short of broad rivers ; the 
distance covered a day's march. Thus on the way 
back the soldier saw many an obstacle that looked 
impassable, many a sight which was gruesome and 
forbidding in cold blood ; it seemed, and was, a 
day's march that they had galloped. And in all the 
wide plain were dead everywhere, and a few limping 
men, and brave horses standing till they died. 

As night began to close down they saw a column 
of Infantry coming out to meet them. A battalion 



A SUBALTERN'S FIRST BATTLE 71 

sent to find out what had become of them ; to see 
whether support was wanted. A British battaUon 
it was ; and then much to the surprise of the Cavalry, 
for the doers of great deeds often Httle appreciate 
their own heroism, a great British cheer broke forth, 
and the Officers came up, and shook the Captain 
warmly by the hand, and said : 

" Well done, old chap, it was splendid ! " 

The first battle of some subalterns is during a 
siege, either great or small. He may be one of a 
large force shut up in a beleaguered town, or he may 
be alone or with one other Officer besieged in an 
isolated post. He may be in an entrenchment 
receiving an attack ; or it may be ** over the top " 
and a charge at the enemy's entrenchments. But 
whichever it is, the British subaltern is himself, a 
brave and true English gentleman. 

One I remember v>^as chiefly concerned with the 
loss of half a biscuit which he had left at the last 
halt, and another slept peacefully till the moment 
of attack came. 

The story of " The Green Curve " gives in de- 
lightful form the story of a minor siege, and Chitral, 
Ladysmith, and Mafeking stand out as historic 
cases of successful defences. 



CHAPTER V 

"JUDY" AND OTHER DOGS 

Birth and Parentage — A Pup's Tail for a Bottle of Beer — " Made 
me 'Op and Yell" — A 200 Mile Trek — Cholera — "Judy" in Action 
— Her Fatal Bravery — A Wounded Officer — Redivivi Both — 
The Bobbery Pack — Under the Orange Tree — " Baz " — Nearly 
Ruins a Military Career — The Parting — Searching for Master — 
Died Fighting — " Patch " — At the Dog Show — Revenge 
Afterwards — Travels First-Class — " Patch " and " Phoongye " 
— Rival Drives — "Patch" no Joseph — " Potiphar" — " Romp" — 
Some Snake Stories 

" TTUDY " was my first dog, and I loved her 
I dearly, more than all that have succeeded 
^ her. She was given me as quite a small 
puppy by the Captain of my Company, and made 
a long and adventurous journey to join us. But 
then all her life was adventurous. We were away 
upon active service in Afghanistan when she was 
born in Murree. Her parentage was high for those 
days, though high or low it didn't matter to me ; 
she was my dog, and I didn't really care twopence 
about her pedigree, except in so much as it enhanced 
her merits in the eyes of other dogs and men and 
women. But her pedigree was high, nevertheless. 
Her father was a well-known and highly-distin- 
guished fox-terrier belonging to " Bwab " of the 
loth Hussars, that exceedingly popular and delight- 
ful person, Brabazon, then a subaltern, but now 
Sir John, and a distinguished General. 

In those days a fox-terrier was a fox-terrier, and 
not a long-legged, long-nosed, no-forehead, cowardly 
sort of idiot that wins prizes at silty dog shows now- 
adays. A fox-terrier then was a short, square, dapper 

72 



"JUDY" AND OTHER DOGS 73 

little fellow, with high forehead and short nose ; as 
sharp as a needle, and plucky to the death, just 
standing on wire all the time ; and ready to dash 
in, and at, anything, big or small, like a shot. He 
was also small enough and plucky enough to bolt 
a fox, which is his real calling in life, as his name 
implies. " Judy's " mother too was a pearl, a 
regular smart, dashing little dog. 

One of the great things in those days was colour- 
ing. A fox-terrier to be really creme de la crime, in 
the very highest realms of subaltern admiration, 
must in the first instance have a perfectly evenly 
marked black-and-tan head, and also equally im- 
portant, a black spot at the root of the tail. Which 
same tail had to be exactly four inches long, and 
must have been bitten off to that length, and not 
cut, when the fox-terrier was a tiny puppy. There 
was a soldier in my Company, who hied from 
Leicestershire, who was an acknowledged expert 
in this branch of canine law and operation. His 
fee was one bottle of Bass's beer (not Murree, thank 
you, sir, kindly) per tail bitten off ; presumably 
to wash the taste away. And when there was a 
large litter he went away simply loaded with bottles. 
His procedure too was most professional. 

" Look 'ere, sir, just shut the bitch up, and bring 
the box of pups " (a subaltern's puppies always 
lived in an old wine case) " along 'ere near the door. 
Just 'alf open it, and when I nods me 'ead just bang 
it 'ard. Lord bless their little 'earts, the slam gives 
them such a start they don't notice Fve bit off their 
tails same moment." 

The precaution about shutting up Mamma, he 
informed us, was most important. 

" A week come Tuesday," he explained, " I was 
nippin' off a tail or two for the Major, and some'ow 
the bitch got loose without no one seein' 'er, and 
just as the door banged, and I nipped the little 



74 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

cuss's tail off, blarmee if the bitch didn't nail me 
through the calf. Nasty bite too, and made me 'op 
and yell, so I'm keerful now." 

Bar unforeseen boomerangs of this description 
the whole seance was successful and unharrowing, 
and the small victims none the worse, and rarely 
even any the wiser. A little squeak perhaps ; and 
being then put back to Mamma, she licked the little 
stumps quite clean and well in a few minutes. 

Besides even head marking and a spot on the root 
of the tail, it was also necessary, to be strictly cor- 
rect, to have a small black spot on top of the head 
between the ears. The right shades of colouring 
ran from a light yellow over the eyes outwards to 
a shade of rich brown, and on outwards to inky and 
silky black. Both ears must be as black as night. 
Down the nose a white parting, starting very broad 
on the forehead and fining down to a thin white line 
at the nose. That article itself being coal-black. 

" Judy " had not all these noble attributes, but 
she was an angel nevertheless. 

To join us Mamma and daughter had to make a 
long march. First they went forty miles in an ekka 
from Murree to Rawal Pindi ; then from Rawal 
Pindi to Peshawar they travelled eighty miles in a 
bullock cart. And from Peshawar onwards, up to 
near the Jugdulluk Pass in Afghanistan, they had 
to walk nearly a hundred miles. At least " Judy's " 
Mamma walked, whilst " Judy " was carried by one 
of the men in his haversack. 

*' Judy " arrived just as the Peace of Gundamuk 
was signed, so she had to go all the way back again, 
and that summer we stayed at Landi-Kotal in the 
Khyber Pass, scourged with cholera, so that for five 
nights running we buried an officer, and in five 
nights forty men. But dogs do not, fortunately, 
get cholera ; nor did I, though I had a squeak or two. 

" The moment you feel that way, young fellow," 



" JUDY " AND OTHER DOGS 75 

our old regimental doctor said to me, " just take a 
small wineglass of neat whisky or brandy, drop 
fifteen to thirty drops of chlorodyne into it, swallow 
off the stuff, and lie down quiet for a couple of hours. 
If that don't cure you, send for me." But it always 
did, and has many a time since. 

Towards autumn the British Embassy at Kabul, 
under Sir Louis Cavagnari, was massacred. The war 
commenced again, so " Judy " and I again took the 
field, with varying fortunes, for another year. She 
was now pretty well grown, and went with me every- 
where — in action or out of action, on outlying 
picquet, or in my snug little camp bed. Going round 
the sentries on outpost duty she was as good as a 
lantern on a dark night, for from sentry to sentry 
she would thread her way unerringly, a white spot 
about two yards ahead. When I was asleep no one 
was allowed to come near me, except one of my own 
soldiers, or my servant ; anyone else was driven 
fiercely away. Like many a thoughtless subaltern, 
I had taught her to "go for niggers," as we called 
it, and that was nearly the undoing of poor " Judy," 
and I thought I had lost her for ever. 

It happened like this. I was commanding part 
of the escort to a convoy which was being conducted 
through the Jugdulluk Pass towards Kabul, when 
fire was opened on one of our flanking parties, and 
shortly after a message came down that a subaltern 
in the 51st Foot had been shot, and asking for a 
dhooly to be sent up. Taking half a dozen men I 
went up too, riding the first part, which was easy 
going, on a black pony I had then, to see if any help 
was wanted. I had not gone far, however, when I 
found that the black pony was a sort of conspicuous 
Aunt Sally which everyone had a shot at. They 
missed him all right, but got me through the foot ; 
a skiff only, just missing the ankle and going out 
through the bottom of my boot. 



76 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

Leaving the black pony to be hustled down under 
cover again, I went on, and found my friend bleed- 
ing much, and looking pretty bad. A large bullet, 
probably a Snider, had hit him in the chest ; had 
apparently gone right through him, and made an 
enormous jagged hole where it came out at the back. 
We thought he was a gone coon, but making him as 
comfortable as possible in the dhooly we sent him 
down to the doctor. Then collecting our men we 
prepared to clear out the enemy. There were not 
very many of them, but they held a sungar on the 
summit of a ridge which commanded us, and effec- 
tually prevented the convoy proceeding along the 
Pass. All this time " Judy " was with me, greatly 
excited, and bustling about as if a rat hunt was 
going on. 

Sending round a few men to the right and a few 
men to the left, we kept down the fire from the 
sungar till they had made good way, and then fixing 
bayonets we charged. Out went the Afghans, and 
off they fled with the speed and activity of moun- 
tain goats, and to my horror off went " Judy," 
1000 miles an hour, after them. I yelled and 
whistled and roared, and even used abusive epi- 
thets, but those fluttering trouserings were too much 
for her. She was going to chase them out of my 
compound, anyhow. As the Afghans neared the 
crest of the next ridge a few hundred yards on, 
" Judy " closed on the rearmost, and we heard an 
angry shout of " Kure, you dog ! " and saw the man 
make a slash with his big knife. Then the whole 
crowd, " Judy " and all, disappeared over the crest 
line. With a bad foot I had had enough of running, 
and sent on some men to the next ridge, but when 
they got there not a living thing was in sight, neither 
man nor dog. And no amount of whistling or call- 
ing would raise the latter. 

We were all greatly distressed. Her gallantry 



"JUDY" AND OTHER DOGS 77 

had evidently been too great, and she had been cut 
down ; and I cursed my folly in having taught her 
to "go for niggers." 

The convoy moved on, and I was glad to find my 
friend fairly easy, and neither dead nor dying as we 
had feared. Indeed, when we got into the next 
camp, and the doctors had a chance of probing the 
wound, they found that the bullet had run right 
round, and had done no fatal harm, and my friend 
eventually got quite well, and is alive to this day. 
Being young and foolish, and fearing I should be 
left behind, I said nothing about the scratch on my 
foot ; it didn't hurt, and only felt a little sore. That 
was an exceeding grievous mistake, for a bit of my 
sock or boot had been carried in, and a few days 
after it had become a serious matter, and took 
weeks to put straight. 

Meanwhile poor " Judy " was mourned for as one 
dead, and I felt bitterly desolated at her loss, and 
missed her frightfully. It was nearly a fortnight 
after, and we were in Kabul, when one day a trans- 
port driver brought me a note. It was from an 
Officer many marches down the line of communica- 
tions, who wrote that one morning when he woke 
up he found a little fox-terrier curled up on the foot 
of his bed. She was very thin and very footsore, 
and he had kept her and fed her, and now heard 
from one of my regiment that my dog wris missing. 
To my great joy it proved to be the long lost " Judy." 
She had evidently hunted Afghans till she missed 
her way, and then eventually getting back to the 
Jugdulluk Pass, she had back-tracked us, vainly 
searching camp after camp down the line of com- 
munications. 

I gave her a medal for that battle, and took the 
precaution to put my own name and regiment on 
the back. 

After the best part of two years peace was finally 



78 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

signed, and we cleared back to India. There "Judy " 
lived the usual cantonment life of a subaltern's dog. 
She hunted wild cats and pariah dogs, urged thereto 
by her master ; and on Sundays, as a treat, very 
often came in for a rat hunt as well. She was also 
a prominent member of the bobbery pack, which 
consisted mostly of fox-terriers and bull-terriers, 
with a greyhound or two thrown in. The pack 
went out on high days and holidays to hunt jackals ; 
first, however, settling up old scores amongst them- 
selves. 

It was also one of the duties of a subaltern's dog 
to have litters of puppies, and these, the result of 
careful mating, were distributed amongst the most 
cherished of one's friends, or given to a dog fancier 
amongst the men of one's Company. 

India, though not a bad country for some classes 
of dogs, especially those with short coats, is rarely 
a long-lived country for any. The longest I have 
ever had a dog is six years, and poor " Judy " only 
lived till she was four. Then she got a chill, or some- 
thing wrong inside, and gradually sank away. I sat 
up with her two nights, giving her spoonfuls of port 
wine and strong soup at intervals, but we could 
not pull her through. It was my first great grief, 
and I remember fairly blubbering as I sat on the 
ground, and carved her name and date on the trunk 
of an orange tree, beneath which she was buried, 
wrapped in my best rug. 

Thirty-one years afterwards the orange tree and 
its inscription, still legible to me, stood in the garden 
of The Guides at Mardan. 

Another dog that came to me was a greyhound 
named " Baz " from the colour of his eyes, which 
were those of a hawk called " Baz " in the East. 
He was the property of a brother Officer who died 
of wounds, and was sold by auction with his effects. 
*' Baz " was knocked down to me for Rs.io, equal 



''JUDY" AND OTHER DOGS 79 

in those days to ten shillings. He was a very fast 
and good dog, and slept on my bed, as do most 
subalterns' dogs. In fact, sometimes there is scarcely 
room for the subaltern at all. 

" Baz," however, once very nearly ruined my 
military career. The General was down inspecting 
us, and being short of quarters a large tent was 
pitched for him in the mess compound, just outside 
my rooms. I noticed one day some small bits of 
coloured wool lying about the floor, but did not take 
much notice of them. A few days after the General 
had left, he wrote to the Colonel : 

" Dear Jenkins, 

" Did I leave behind a pair of carpet slippers ? 
It is a pair made by a little niece of mine, and I prize 
them greatly." 

The slippers could nowhere be found, nor had 
anyone seen them. On talking confidentially to 
" Baz " afterwards, it became apparent that he was 
the culprit who had stolen the slippers out of the 
General's tent, and some little friends of his, fox- 
terrier puppies, had torn them into small pieces 
and probably swallowed most of them. 

On such slippery slopes does a military career rest. 

After we had been together for three years and 
had become great friends, " Baz " and I had to 
part, for I was invalided home. He was left with 
a friend, but was quite inconsolable. First he 
roamed all over the cantonment searching for me, 
and every night went to my bed to see if I had 
returned. Then he thought in his faithful old doggy 
heart : 

" The master must be at the outposts." 

So out he went to the line of outposts, all of 
them over twelve miles, and one of them thirty-two 
miles distant. To each he went in turn and searched 
it carefully over. He said to each Post-Commander : 



So A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

" How-de-do ? But where 's my master ? " 

Then he would have a drink of water, but no food, 
and plod on in his search. 

At length, faint and weary and after many days, 
he turned back towards cantonments. As he neared 
it he passed a village where dwelt many of his 
enemies, great fierce pariah dogs. These in the days 
of his prosperity he treated with great disdain. They 
ran at the bare sight of him. But now, weak and 
thin and weary and worn, he was fair game. They 
bore down on him in a pack, bowled him over, and 
killed him there and then. Not sorry to die, perhaps, 
for earth was a poor place without old master. 

All that we got back of poor old '\Baz " was his 
collar, which a Sepoy, who was staying in the village, 
brought back. 

'* Patch " was another great character, who be- 
longed to my brother Leslie. He was a rough- 
haired fox-terrier and a born fighter, which fights 
involved my brother in a constant round of visits 
of apology. He was a very intelligent dog, too. 
There was a Dog Show at Murree, and " Patch " 
was exhibited amongst the rough-haired terriers. 
But the judges did not fancy him, and he was one 
of the first turned out of the ring. This was a fright- 
ful insult, and '' Patch " sat and watched the more 
favoured dogs, especially the prize-winners, with 
glowering eyes. 

Next day after breakfast he said, " Now I am 
off for a bit of business." And, going systematically 
round to the houses where the successful competi- 
tors lived, he fought them all. 

" You may wear a beastly old red or blue ribbon, 
but I'll jolly well show you which is the best dog," 
he remarked to each, and proceeded to do so. 

At lunch he came home bleeding all over and with 
one ear nearly bitten off, but highly pleased with 
himself. That meant yet another round of apologies. 



" JUDY " AND OTHER DOGS 8i 

At one time my brother was stationed at Now- 
shera, about fifteen miles from us by train. When 
" Patch " got bored he would trot down to the 
station and hop into the train. Not into the dog- 
box, if you please, or even into a third-class carriage, 
but first-class, no less. And not in the wrong train 
either. There he would curl up under the seat, take 
no notice of the two intermediate stations, and jump 
out at Mardan. Then he would briskly trot to our 
house, which was a mile away, and arrive beaming. 

Shortly after would come a tense wire from my 
brother Leslie : 

" Have you seen ' Patch ' ? " 

And the answer would go back : 

" Yes, he is asleep on the drawing-room sofa." 

" Patch " once came to stay with us at Dera- 
Ismail-Khan, and we had a black Chow dog named 
*' Phoongye " who was the apple of his mistress's 
eye. " Patch " did not at all approve of " Phoon- 
gye," but he was a shrewd dog and liked his new 
home, especially on liver nights. So he kept off 
*' Phoongye," only just sniffing occasionally. 

We had a motor-car, and there not being room 
for two dogs in it and one of them " Patch," the 
mistress decided that only one should go out at a 
time, and being a kind, just mistress she gave no 
preference to " Phoongye," but took each in turn. 
" Patch," who loved driving in a car, soon dis- 
covered this, and made his plans accordingly. The 
motor-house was a good 150 yards away and behind 
the house, but " Patch " cultivated a preternatural 
sense of hearing. The moment the engine was 
started he would sUp out, dash down to the stables, 
jump into the box-seat beside the chauffeur, and 
arrive at the front door sitting up in it, and saying 
as plain as words : 

" Now let's see that damn black dog turn me 
out." 



82 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

The black dog did not, but his mistress did with 
great sternness, when it was not " Patch's " turn. 

The Judge had a huge dog called ** Potiphar," I 
believe because his wdfe had made a scandalous 
alliance elsewhere. " Patch " was no Joseph, but 
he loathed " Potiphar," and sought diligently for 
an opportunity of telling him so. Tout vient a qui 
salt attendre, and " Patch's " chance came when we 
were all busy talking after church. He went for 
*' Potiphar " like a small tiger, but he had taken on 
too much this time, and would have been eaten alive 
if he had not been rescued. 

Two years afterwards, at quite a different station 
several hundred miles away, " Patch " was walking 
down the Mall when suddenly he saw *' Potiphar." 

" What ho ! my boy. You here ? " 

And went for him like a streak. 

We had another dog named " Romp," a clumber 
spaniel, who was a great character. He was very 
greedy, as are most spaniels, and once ate a camel, 
or something of that size. With this inside him, 
and looking like a boa-constrictor which has swal- 
lowed a buffalo, he waddled in and flopped down in 
the dining-room, and there lay for two days and two 
nights without moving. We thought he was dead, 
but after two days he got up, had a drink, and 
seemed none the worse. 

He also bitterly resented any aspersions on his 
birth and pedigree. When being exhibited at Simla 
he was defeated by two dogs belonging to Mr. 
Phelps the tailor, the judge being Padre Dale, a well- 
known sporting parson and dog fancier. " Romp " 
was a good deal annoyed about this in his placid 
way, and thought he ought to make a protest. And 
to do so followed the methods of Mr. Kensit and 
Father Black. 

Next day was Sunday, and we all, as in duty 
bound, went to church, leaving " Romp " at home 



"JUDY" AND OTHER DOGS 83 

as usual. He had never dreamt of going to church 
before, but some other dog evidently told him that 
Padre Dale was going to preach that day. So 
" Romp " slipped away from the house, went to the 
church, lay down on the mat at the open door, and 
behaved with great decorum. But no sooner had 
Padre Dale ascended the pulpit than, perhaps re- 
cognising the voice of the unjust judge, he sat up 
and began to bark vociferously. Everyone took 
turns to look round, and last of all we also turned. 
Thereupon my wife went out to remove " Mr. 
Kensit " to a safe distance, and, curiously enough, 
the only remark she was heard to make was : 

" Good dog, ' Romp.' " 

Perhaps most people having seen a snake-charmer 
look on his performance as a fake, the snake having 
had his fangs drawn and therefore become more 
harmless than a dove. Possibly this is the case with 
some, but there are genuine snake-charmers as well, 
who will charm and capture the most virulent cobra 
or hamadryad. One day my syces came to me at 
Mardan and said there was a hole in the corner of 
the motor-shed, and that they had seen a cobra 
come out of it. We lay in wait for him many days, 
but could never catch him. So I told the syces to 
search for a snake-charmer. They eventually came 
across a travelling snake-charmer in the Bazaar, 
and we took him to the motor-shed. 

He began playing on his flute, which is like an 
ordinary flute, but has a round chamber the size of 
a small cocoa-nut half-way down. He had only 
played a minute or two, a particularly soft and 
melodious tune, when out came the cobra, and ad- 
vanced across the shed towards the player. None 
of us having a stick handy, I said to one of the syces : 

" Fetch me a stick." 

The snake-charmer at once ceased playing, and 
the cobra retreated to his hole. 



84 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

" No, no, Sahib, you must not kill him, or the 
gods will be angry. I shall never catch another." 

" But what's the good of catching snakes if you 
do not kill them ? " we asked. 

" Sahib, I will catch him for you, put him in a 
basket, and take him five miles out into the country 
and let him go. But he must not be killed." 

To that we agreed, and the snake-charmer began 
to play his flute again. 

The cobra immediately came out and almost 
danced towards him, as if enchanted with the dulcet 
sounds. On the ground the man placed a small 
round basket, and led the cobra with his music till 
its head was over the basket. The man then deftly 
dropped the lid of the basket on the cobra's head, 
and, through the crack left, its body quietly followed 
its head and curled up in the basket. The man 
picked up the basket, tied a rag round it, and 
marched off into the country, where he let the cobra 

go- 
To see one of these experts extract the fangs from 

a cobra is an interesting sight. A cobra can only 
strike when he erects his head and a foot or so of 
his body. He can then only strike the exact dis- 
tance of the standing portion of his body, he cannot 
spring, nor can he bite whilst creeping along the 
ground. A hair's-breadth outside the radius of his 
strike is perfect safety. Nor can he strike back- 
wards. The expert therefore manoeuvres to get 
behind the cobra, preferably when it is wriggling 
away, or when it has put its head in a hole on the 
way to escape. The man then seizes the cobra's 
tail with his left hand firmly, and, as quick as Hght- 
ning, runs his right hand up the cobra's body and 
gets it safe by the neck. As long as he has nerve 
and holds tight the cobra can do no harm. With 
great deliberation he then takes out a pocket-knife 
and calmly cuts out the cobra's fangs. A squirt of 



"JUDY" AND OTHER DOGS 85 

deadly poison is seen to spurt out as from a syringe, 
and the cobra is harmless. A child might play with 
it. 

As subalterns in search of knowledge, we often 
tried to get up a fight between a mongoose and 
cobra. A mongoose is a long furry little animal, 
rather like a weasel, and is supposed to, and I 
believe does, attack and eat a cobra whenever he 
wants to. But we could never bring the battle off. 
We tried every way to incite either or both to attack, 
but neither would. We even starved the mongoose, 
and when he was very hungry threw bits of raw 
meat close up to the cobra. But the mongoose 
knew his business to a hair's-breadth. He would go 
up and eat a piece of meat not an inch outside the 
cobra's strike. The cobra would strike just that 
fraction short, and the mongoose never winked an 
eye or stirred in the least, just munched on at the 
meat. But inside the deadly circle he would not go. 

One of the Native Officers said that a mongoose 
was immune from cobra bite because of his fur coat, 
and so also was a cat. 

** I will fetch mine, Sahib, and you shall see." 

Having fetched his cat, he threw it into the room. 
Now these scientific researches were being carried 
out in an empty room in one of the houses in the 
Fort : a ground-floor room with French windows 
on two sides. Against these windows had flattened 
their noses a lot of the men, whilst we of the elect 
sat on the mantelpiece out of harm's way, and a 
Native Officer sat half-way up a ladder in the corner, 
piously ejaculating : " Perchance I shall, by the 
grace of God, not be seized on from behind." 

The cat made one wild leap straight on top of 
the cobra, and we all exclaimed, " Here is a tiger 
indeed." But this was apparently quite uninten- 
tional valour, for the cobra struck twice and the cat 
turned at once and made a wild dash through the 



86 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

glass window into the faces of the intelligent ob- 
servers. She was, unhappily, never seen again, 
which proved that fur is not cobra proof. 

Undoubtedly, however, fur, or even cloth, will 
save a man by absorbing part of the poison, especi- 
ally if the cobra has recently bitten something else, 
and thus weakened, or diminished the virulence, or 
volume of the poison. 

Captain Hammond of The Guides, the same who 
won the Victoria Cross at Kabul, was once out 
shooting, when he was bitten in the leg by a cobra. 
He had on at the time a pair of puttees, such as 
soldiers now wear. He was alone with his servants, 
and knowing that the first effect of the poison is to 
make one drowsy, before falling into a sleep from 
which there is no awakening, he told his servants to 
take his arms on each side and walk him up and 
down, on no account allowing him to go to sleep. 
He also took some raw spirits which act as a partial 
remedy. His servants obeyed his orders for a long 
time, till at length Captain Hammond could bear 
the fatigue no longer, and, being a powerful man, 
he capsized the two servants right and left, and went 
to sleep on his camp bed. Next morning he woke 
up quite well, the folds of his puttee having appar- 
ently saved him. 



CHAPTER VI 

CAMPAIGNING IN EGYPT 

A Dance at the Mess — Sir John McQueen — Off to Egypt — Five 
Special Trains of Camels — A Fire on Board — Another Fire — The 
Arab's Tail missing— Entering Suakin Harbour — Fine Pilotage 
— The Battle of McNeill's Zareba — The First Rush — The 15th 
Sikhs — Our Own Adventures — A Shotgun Saves Us — Sudden 
End of Battle — Tamai — " Dowti into the Deep Sea " — Only a 
Bruise — The Water Tanks — ^The Humane Subaltern and His 
Horse — He and Sir George Greaves Disagree — The Sun Shone 
Again — In a Zareba — A Strange Thing — On the Jetty — Un- 
guarded Malefactors — A Severe Skirmish— A Babu and a Blue- 
jacket to the Rescue — A Gold Watch and D.S. Medal — 
Shooting for the Pot — An Unwelcome Surprise— The Ship of 
the Desert — Hasty Return to Camp— Young Kid of the Goats — 
A Small Night Alarm — A Chance Shot — A Happy Escape — 
Sir William Gatacre — His Energj' — The Sentrj^ — His Orders 

WE were having a dance in the Mess one 
evening, quite a small affair, in honour 
of the Lieutenant-Governor, who had 
come to inspect the regiment in the course of his 
autumn tour. As one of the hosts of the evening, 
and as in duty bound, it came to my turn to make 
my best bow to the wife of the Militar}^ Secretary, 
and to ask her to tread a measure with me. 

In the course of treading that measure, the wife 
of the Military Secretar}', one of the most beautiful 
of ladies, remarked : 

" John has just got a telegram asking for two 
Officers to be sent at once to Egypt for service there." 
Now " John " was no less a person than that re- 
doubtable and splendid soldier, Sir John McQueen, 
who formerly commanded The Guides. Being full 
of my good fortune as regards a partner, and just 

87 



88 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

exactly at the right stage as regards moral courage, 
I said : 

" Then let us at once tackle Sir John on this im- 
portant point." 

" Yes, let us," agreed my kind partner. So up we 
sailed to Sir John, my courage perhaps rather in- 
clined to issue out of my best Wellington boots as 
we approached that stalwart warrior. 

" I hear, sir, you have had a telegram asking for 
two Officers to be sent to the Egyptian War ; do you 
think I would do for one ? " 

Kind old Sir John beamed down on me, and an- 
swered in his bluff and hearty way : 

" Well, I don't know why you shouldn't, young 
fellow." 

I went away frightfully happy, and danced like 
mad all the evening. After supper, or thereabouts, 
happening to collide again with Sir John, he patted 
me kindly on the shoulder, and said : 

** Do you know, young fellow, I have to-night 
received no less than thirty-eight applications, by 
telegram and otherwise, for those two appointments 
to Egypt, so don't be too sanguine, but I'll remem- 
ber you were the first to apply." 

I thanked him, in rather a half-starved manner 
I am afraid, and went to bed with my heart in my 
boots — the same Wellingtons. 

What earthly chance had I, an exceedingly ob- 
scure subaltern, against thirty-eight, yes, thirty- 
eight tremendous fellows ? and in my dreams their 
merits enlarged to quite an enormous extent. With 
the cold of next morning it was, of course, evident 
that my chances were absolutely nowhere ; but, 
with the happy tolerance of youth, one hoped for 
better luck next time, and then thought no more of 
the matter. 

Two days after we were out hawking, some eight 
or ten miles from cantonments, when in the far dis- 



CAMPAIGNING IN EGYPT 89 

tance appeared a streak of dust, manifestly a gallop- 
ing horse ; further, it was apparent the rider was 
heading for us ; finally we could distinguish that it 
was an orderly in uniform. The moment we dis- 
covered that, my heart went up with a bound. 

" That's my orders for Egypt, I'll bet a goose ! " 
And so, sure enough, they were. 

" You have been selected for service in Egypt," 
the orders ran, " but will first proceed to Jhelum, 
and take over 500 camels which are being sent to 
Egypt under your charge." I did not know one 
end of a camel from another, nor anything about 
him, or his ways ; but the British subaltern is some- 
what accustomed to these sudden calls on his re- 
sources, and takes things as they come. Yet it must 
be confessed that those 500 camels and their 250 
attendants proved to be a tough undertaking. It 
took five special trains to carry them 1000 miles to 
the sea, and a 6000-ton ship to carry them 2500 
miles across the Indian Ocean to Suakin. Why 
half of them did not fall out of the trains, or the 
whole of them get burnt alive on the ship, is one of 
those miraculous coincidences which do occur. 

Looking out of the carriage window, at a curve, 
one was frozen with horror to see about half the 
camels, having broken their knee halters, standing up 
in open trucks with only a two-feet freeboard, whilst 
the train swished round the corner at twenty miles 
an hour. By all the laws of gravity they should have 
been shot off, but they were not. 

On board ship our narrowest escapes were from 
fire. I went round the whole ship myself, every hour 
or two day and night, and one night came across a 
camel driver, three decks down, who had just 
emptied his hookah on to a handy pile of dry hay, 
and was placidly warming his hands at the grateful 
blaze. He probably concluded that a whirlwind 
had struck him and the blazing hay. We got it 



90 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

put out just in time to save a general conflagration ; 
but the gentleman concerned had reason to sit down 
carefully for some days after. 

Another escape came also to a near one, my own 
syces being the sinners on this occasion. It is the 
early morning custom of the Indian syce to collect 
a pile of the last night's soiled horse bedding, to 
light it, and squat over it warming himself. With- 
out a shade of humour, or indeed malice, my syces 
followed the usual custom the first cold morning on 
board ship. In one second the flames had caught 
the awning and there was a blaze all along the deck. 
Falling bits of burning canvas set more bedding 
alight ; all the horses, about a dozen, broke loose 
in terror, and, as the Sergeant expressed it, " there 
was 'ell to pay for a few minutes." Happily for 
all, at that particular time in the morning the hoses 
were ready fixed for swabbing decks, and that saved 
the ship and everything in it. As it turned out, 
little or no damage was done, except to the awning ; 
and to my grey Arab's tail, which had mostly dis- 
appeared in the conflagration. 

Arrived off Suakin, a Naval Officer came on board 
and took charge. The entrance to Suakin Harbour 
is very narrow and intricate, and the harbour itself 
had never before held more than five ships at a 
time. That being so, our Naval Officer took us in 
slap-dash, and in casual converse informed the 
Captain that there were already forty-two vessels 
inside. 

But, bless their hearts, what is that to a British 
Naval Officer ? Sure enough a forest of masts and, 
later, hulls appeared, and straight ahead a poky 
little gap, apparently about large enough to hold a 
Thames wherry. At the precise moment when we 
appeared to be about to charge several ships all at 
once, the Naval Officer said, " Let go your bow 
anchor " ; or it may have been sheet anchor, or 



CAMPAIGNING IN EGYPT 91 

any other anchor, who knows ? Anyway, it was an 
anchor, and the Captain understood, and let it go. 
At that exact moment the tug Samson nosed into 
us on one side, and the tug Hercules on the other, 
and before most people had time to wipe their eye- 
glasses, our 6000-ton ship was in that little crack 
meant for a Thames wherry. The Captain came 
down to lunch just after, and he was fairly per- 
spiring with astonishment at this wonderful piece 
of pilotage. 

Twenty-four hours after we were in the thick of 
the thickest battle. It was the battle of McNeill's 
zareba. We went out with a convoy, which, heavily 
guarded by half a dozen regiments in hollow square, 
was depositing stores in a depot a few miles out. 
The square convoy duly arrived, and whilst the 
camels were being unloaded the troops set to work 
to cut down thorn bushes to form a zareba. 

Some regiments piled arms and thus went to 
work, but the more wary, amongst them the 15th 
Sikhs, slung their rifles on their backs. All of a 
sudden, from the direction of the sea, our safe side 
as was imagined, a great turmoil quickly arose. 
First a confused murmur, then shouts, then gallop- 
ing cavalry scouts ; then stampeding camels and 
men ; then dust, and yells, and clamour ; and then 
about five thousand Arab spearmen and swordsmen 
charging through the bush. 

It is a curious bush in those parts — thorny 
mimosa, so thin that a column in fours can easily 
march through it, but so thick that no clear view 
is obtainable for more than fifty yards in any direc- 
tion. Great hordes of Arabs poured through the 
bush exactly like sand through a sieve, and no one 
could see to shoot till the enemy was right on him. 
The confusion was accentuated by the mass of 
soldiers who had no arms dashing back to get them. 

By the grace of God, and no one else except per- 



92 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

haps the 15th Sikhs, knows quite how, the situation 
cleared itself almost as suddenly as it had arisen. 
There was a tremendous fusillade for a few minutes, 
every man shooting straight before him, regardless 
of friends or foes. Then lo and behold ! the attack 
was over, and gone, and melted away ! And two 
thousand corpses, friend and foe, lay around that 
bloodstained spot. 

Our own adventure was brief and curious. Those 
who had no job on hand were off their horses eating 
a bit of hard tackle, as we called it, and were talking 
to their friends. When the dust and disturbance 
arose a Cavalry Officer instinctively mounted, that 
being his method of fighting ; whilst his infantry 
friends stuck to their feet, whilst syces held their 
horses. 

At this moment there dashed through our little 
knot a cavalry patrol, driven in by the enemy, which 
stampeded most of the led horses. One Officer, how- 
ever, thus bereft, had in his hand a 12-bore shotgun, 
which really was about the best weapon anyone 
could have for such an occasion, and probably saved 
us from adding our number to the slain. 

Hot-foot on the tail of our cavalry patrol came 
a swarm of Arabs, prancing, yelling, waving their 
swords, and coming on at a great rate. The mounted 
officers were nearly stampeded, but held their ground 
and, steadying up their horses, let fly with their 
revolvers. But revolvers will not stop a rush like 
this. Happily our friend with the shotgun was a 
more formidable defence. Perfectly cool and col- 
lected, he let drive one barrel straight in the face of 
a very unpleasant-looking ruffian who was leading, 
and the second barrel into the stomach of a second. 
The Arab who was hit in the face, and probably 
blinded, clasped his hands over his eyes and melted 
away to the left without a word. The man hit in 
the stomach fell in a heap. The rest dived away 



CAMPAIGNING IN EGYPT 93 

each side and passed on. One more shot did our 
friend fire, and then no one else came near us, the 
tide of battle had passed us, and was raging furiously 
behind. 

This was comforting in a way, but it very soon 
seemed to include being shot in the back by our 
own people. A hurricane of bullets swept past us, 
and we were now off our horses pretty sharp and 
lay flat on the ground, and piously wished we were 
moles. But happily this hurricane lasted only a 
very short time, and neither horse nor man was hit. 
Then all seemed to grow quiet and there was a dead 
silence, occasionally emphasised by a few stray 
shots. That was the end of the battle, a bloody one 
whilst it lasted, but short, sharp and to the point. 



This campaign consisted mostly of marching along 
in huge squares surrounding loaded camels, moving 
at the rate of about one mile an hour. It was not a 
very interesting campaign, as such, to the ordinary 
subaltern, but he usually manages to get some joy 
out of most unpromising circumstances. 

At the scene of the second battle of Tamai we ar- 
rived in one huge square, but with no camels inside. 
These had been left in a zareba some way behind, 
for we were out to fight. This battle followed the 
usual course ; the great square was nosed into the 
enemy, who, as in duty bound, attacked it with 
swords, and spears, and great bravery. They were 
met with volleys, and the bayonet ; and after a 
moderate fight melted away, leaving the ground 
strewn with dead and wounded. In the midst of 
the shooting, which was mostly done by us, I was 
sent across the square, which was perfectly flat and 
sandy, like the desert of Sahara, with a message, and 
was riding an Arab, " Mercury " by name, my first 
charger. We two were great friends and comrades. 



94 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

and had fought together before. We were going at 
a walk, for the sand was deep, the distance short, 
and there was no great urgency. About the middle 
of the square, however, the world disappeared for 
the rider, and he sank into a deep sea. At first the 
light was bright through the greenish water, but as 
he sank it got dimmer and dimmer, and at last went 
out. The next thing he remembered was sitting 
propped up in the sand, and someone, a long way 
off, saying : 

** Well, old boy, feeling better ? " I was not in 
the least, but did not feel strong enough to tell 
a lie. 

There was a big sandy space in front, and " Mer- 
cury " was standing by with his reins on the ground, 
whilst closer was the Staff Surgeon, and by him an 
orderly with a brown canvas bag on which was a 
large red cross. Then the brain got somewhat 
clear, and I suddenly asked with great fierceness : 

" What the devil's up ? " 

" Nothing much, sonny," the doctor replied, now 
quite close, " only you got a bit of a knockout." 
The knockout had apparently come from an ounce 
bullet, fired probably from a Snider rifle, and spent 
when it hit me. But chancing as it did to strike 
exactly over the heart, it had sent me down into 
those deep seas, and nearly out into the regions 
beyond. But though aching badly, we all had to 
laugh that evening. 

Bivouacked still in a square, I, as an invalid, was 
given a snug and bullet-proof spot behind a large 
pile of water tanks. For all the requirements of the 
army in the matter of drinking water had to be 
carried with it on camels. This pile of water tanks 
was guarded as if they were cans of gold and con- 
tained diamonds ; and in charge of them was a sub- 
altern named Allen, a Sandhurst comrade. That 
subaltern officer had a horse, and the horse was 



CAMPAIGNING IN EGYPT 95 

very thirsty indeed, and this smote the subaltern 
officer to the heart. 

Thus communing he with himself : 

" Here is this large pile of water cans, and no one 
will miss one, and am I not lord of all, and shall I 
not give one of them to my poor old gee ? " 

And so did he, but by evil venture at this precise 
moment up came Sir George Greaves, the Chief of 
the Staff, surrounded by a glittering throng with 
red tabs, the first campaign in which they were worn. 
And these caught that unrighteous subaltern in the 
act of doing a moderately righteous thing. 

Sir George Greaves was a very popular officer of 
the older type, with an old-fashioned vocabulary of 
exceptional virulence and potency ; he was also 
somewhat annoyed. Standing, therefore, on the 
pile of tanks, pulpit-like, he began to give our friend 
the subaltern some of his best. 

** Do you know, sir," he was continuing, " you 
ought to be taken out and shot ! Shot, sir, nothing 
short of it. You have been guilty of one of the most 

heinous military crimes possible, you " and so 

on for a lot more. 

" And now, sir, what have you got to say for 
yourself ? " 

To anyone observing the culprit it was evident 
that his attention was elsewhere. His gaze was fixed 
with fascinated anxiety on the pile of tanks. So 
that when the point-blank question came, he stam- 
mered forth : 

" Yes, sir ; quite so, sir ; very sorry, sir ; but do 
be careful, sir, or the pile will come down with a run." 

The Chief of the Staff tried not to smile, and his 
staff looked at him to see whether they might laugh 
or not, and someone behind sniggered without orders. 

Then the sun shone, and the subaltern was not 
shot. 



96 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

One night we were sleeping in a zareba, a couple 
of miles or more from the coast, and during the 
night Her Majesty's ship Dolphin from the har- 
bour threw a searchlight occasionally over us into 
the bush beyond. If the bluejackets thought they 
saw anything moving out and beyond they would 
plump a shell over the zareba into the bush. 
We were weary and tired, and most of us slept un- 
disturbed through this intermittent bombardment. 
Next morning, however, two syces were to be seen 
approaching, staggering under the weight of an 
enormous shell. 

" This strange thing," they said, " was found lying 
just beside your Honour's horses this morning. 
Perchance it was thrown there by the warship." 
His Honour's horses were exactly fifteen feet from 
his Honour's head, and he felt grateful to the maker 
of that shell. 



On another occasion there was again a narrow 
escape from a premature departure from this vale 
of tears. Standing unarmed at the end of a long 
jetty, I was watching a steamer being unloaded — 
camels, or something equally interesting. It was 
midday and very hot, and everything was going 
slow and sleepy. Helping in the work of unloading 
the ship was a gang of prisoners, lifetimers who had 
been tried and condemned for participating too 
heartily in the Alexandria massacres. In charge of 
these malefactors were a couple of negro policemen 
with rifles. I was the only white man there, and had 
just been noticing with impersonal amusement that 
both the policemen on guard were fast asleep in the 
shade, when I felt an exceedingly hard welt on top 
of my head. Happily an Indian helmet is fairly 
thick, and whipping round I found myself face to 
face with a large and evil-looking scoundrel, armed 



CAMPAIGNING IN EGYPT 97 

with a crowbar ; while the rest of the gang were 
crowding up looking ugly. 

I had learnt something of boxing at school and at 
Sandhurst, and was fairly stiff on the legs. So I 
dashed for the crowbar assailant like a tornado, and 
fortunately knocked him over into the water. There- 
upon the rest of the gang closed up and commenced 
to wage war. With my back to a truck I was having 
a decidedly thin time of it, which in a few seconds 
could only have ended one way, when a welcome 
diversion came from the ship. 

An Indian Mohammedan clerk or overseer, who 
was engaged in the clerical portion of unloading the 
cargo, happened to hear the scuffle, and, looking 
over, saw the Sahib's dilemma. With great promp- 
titude and braveness, for he was entirely unarmed, 
he dashed down the gangway on to the rear of the 
gang, shouting abuse and shouting for help. At the 
same moment a British bluejacket, who was stand- 
ing at the shore end of the jetty, saw the disturbance 
also, and he too, unarmed, charged to the rescue and 
used his fist with splendid effect. 

The turmoil thus raised woke the policemen, and 
they also tumbled up, and between us we secured 
and disarmed the gang, for all had got hold of some 
offensive article. For his prompt bravery on this 
occasion the Mohammedan clerk was presented by 
Government with a gold watch, suitably inscribed, 
and Rs.200 ; and the sailor was given the Distin- 
guished Service Medal. 

The Mohammedan clerk unfortunately lost his eye 
later from a bursting soda-water bottle, and from 
henceforth promoted me to be his father and mother 
with financial rights as such, for the rest of his days. 

Subalterns sometimes do dreadfully rotten things. 
One day out at Otao, a zareba about forty miles 
from Suakin, finding time heavy on my hands, and 
being heartily sick of bully beef and hard tackle, I, 



98 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

as one of the brotherhood, determined to sally forth 
on a camel to see if it were not possible to pick up 
a gazelle or two, or some wild guinea-fowls to help 
the pot. Now the bush around was swarming, off 
and on, with Arabs, and though none had been seen 
for some days no one could be sure about the matter, 
and certainly no one should have gone out, as this 
graceless person did, at that particular time. 

I had not gone more than a mile when, with 
two easy shots, a couple of gazelle were bagged. 
These loaded up on the camel, we were returning to 
camp well pleased ; I sitting on the front seat of the 
saddle, and the syce on the rear. Wending our way 
back through the thick bush, noiselessly as a camel 
goes, we came quite suddenly on five Arabs sitting 
under a mimosa bush. Both parties were greatly 
startled by the sudden encounter, and, having a 
Martini-Henry carbine at full cock across my knees, 
instantly had it up and blazed point-blank into the 
brown of those five Arabs — and idiotically enough 
missed the lot ! 

The discharge of a carbine just past his ear was, 
however, too much for the nerves of the ship of the 
desert, and he whipped round, very nearly unseat- 
ing both his riders, and made a clean bolt of it. The 
Arabs, who also had Martini-Henry rifles, and also 
apparently at full cock, ran after the fugitives, 
blazing away with great persistency and sufficient 
accuracy. The syce, being in the back seat, naturally 
was in a post of honour and danger which he was 
the last to appreciate ; and he could be heard piously 
and continuously praying that "perchance he might 
not be hit in the hinder parts." 

The Arabs, being nearly as bad shots as I was, 
missed both me and the syce with comforting fre- 
quency, but a chance shot happened to graze the 
old camel, and that sent him skipping along faster 
than ever. Finally we fetched up, very hot and 



CAMPAIGNING IN EGYPT 99 

not at all proud of ourselves, at the zareba. I have 
a dim recollection of nothing being said at the time 
about this adventure, and of those gazelles being 
passed off on an unsuspecting mess as young kids 
of the goat. 

That syce had a curious after-career. Having 
field rations and nothing to spend his money on he 
asked me to keep his wages and give him a lump 
sum at the end of the war. It was a matter of 
Rs.ioo, and this he received when we returned to 
India. This sum he thought he could not better 
expend than in the purchase of a wife. With this 
intent he opened negotiations with an elderly lady 
who had a daughter for disposal at that price or 
thereabouts. After a good deal of haggling the 
bargain was concluded and the syce paid down the 
money. Unfortunately, however, not being a busi- 
ness man he did not at once take delivery of the 
goods, nor did he demand a receipt. The elderly 
lady, therefore, bestowed her daughter on another 
possibly at a higher price and swore she had never 
received a rupee from my syce. 

Whilst we were at Mess that night the syce went 
to my bearer and said the Sahib wanted his sword. 
The bearer handed out an ordinary blunt parade 
sword. But the syce said that was not the sword ; 
the Sahib wanted his sharp sword, the one he took 
on service, to show to one of his guests. Thus armed 
the syce went off and slew the elderly lady and her 
daughter. He then pranced down the bazaar, 
saying he would kill anyone who prevented his 
escaping across the Border. Passing through the 
Mess compound he was held up by the guard, who 
formed a ring round him and there he stood at 
bay. 

The Havildar sent in word to the Colonel, who 
evidently not quite catching what was said, remarked 
rather testily across the table : 



100 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

" There is a damn syce of yours making a row. 
Go out and see what it is about." 

I also, not knowing what had happened, walked 
out of the bright Mess into the pitch darkness out- 
side, and also perhaps having caught some testiness 
from the Colonel, exclaimed : 

" What the deuce are you up to ? Come here." 

Out of the darkness a sword was thrust into my 
hand, and the syce's voice said : 

" I will surrender to my own Sahib, but to no 
one else." 

As he had served me faithfully and well, I secured 
the services of a good lawyer from Lahore, who got 
him off with ten years' transportation to the Anda- 
mans. 

Doing duty with a Company of Mounted Infantry 
the skipper had, one night, the escape of his life. 
Some of us had been dining, or rather taking pot- 
luck, bully beef and the like, with a friend over the 
other side of the zareba, and were going home to 
bed, when a few Arabs started shooting from a bluff 
not far off, on which by rights should have been a 
picket. We had often discussed this point, and had 
come to the conclusion that we had better chance 
it, for a small picket might have been swamped and 
a large one could not be afforded. Moreover, the 
Arab is a poor shot at best. Indeed, the Arabs of 
those days shot exceedingly badly ; and not with- 
out cause, for one of their cherished notions was 
that if a musketeer wanted to hit and kill an enemy, 
the more he raised his back sight the harder he hit 
him. This, at one hundred yards' range, was a 
priceless advantage to an antagonist whom the Arab 
wished to hit very hard indeed. 

But to resume, two or three of us were collected 
at the side of the zareba towards the bluff, listening 
to the bullets singing high overhead, and watching 
the moon rise from behind the bluff, hoping to get 



CAMPAIGNING IN EGYPT loi 

a shot back when we could see something to shoot 
at. Our skipper, who had gone to bed, got up and 
joined us, and we were all chatting together for five 
or ten minutes. Then the moon rose, and we had a 
blaze at the brow of the bluff. After that all shoot- 
ing ceased, probably for good and sufficient reasons, 
and we all tumbled off to bed. 

Next morning, when the skipper's servant came 
to wake him, he noticed a small hole through the 
roof of the little tent, and drew his master's atten- 
tion to it. His master gazed at the hole, and thought 
that it looked uncommonly like a bullet hole. Fur- 
ther, it occurred to him that a bullet coming from 
the bluff and dropping at that angle could not well 
have missed the occupant of the bed. This made 
him think a little, and thereupon he made diligent 
search, lest peradventure he also had got a hole 
through him unbeknownst in his sleep. The skipper, 
however, proved to be whole and hearty and with- 
out a blemish. But what they did discover was 
that the bullet had gone through the camp bed on 
which he had slept, had cut a furrow in the ground, 
and thence ricocheted out low through the opposite 
wall of the tent. This looked like a miracle, till the 
skipper recollected that for five or ten minutes 
during the night he had been out chatting with us 
by the zareba side. During that most fortunate 
absence the messenger of Death had passed him by, 
but only for a time. Three months afterwards he joined 
his fallen comrades in the great and happy Beyond. 

Sir William Gatacre used to tell a rather enter- 
taining story about himself. As we all remember, 
he was in later life a man of intense energy, though, 
curiously enough, in his earlier days he was just the 
opposite. He used to teach us Topography at the 
Royal Military College, as far back as 1877, and our 
recollection of him was far from that of a strenuous 
officer. 



102 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

As a young subaltern once sagely remarked, 
speaking to my cousin Arthur, not with reference 
to Sir William Gat acre : 

" Do you know, sir, I notice that when a General 
takes to serious soldiering late in life, he is rather 
apt to make a hohhy of it ! " 

He had just been serving under a very strenuous 
General, who had started late in life. 

Sir William Gatacre commenced to show his 
greatest energy after he had thirty years' service, 
and the soldiers nicknamed him " Backacher." 

It was about the time of the battle of Atbara, 
before or after, that the General was paying a sur- 
prise visit by night, a la Napoleon, to his sentries. 
Accosting one of them, he demanded : 

" Well, my man, what are your orders ? " 

" Sir, my orders is to keep a sharp look out for 
the enemy and for General Gatacre." 

" Oh, indeed ! " said the General, smiling to him- 
self. " And do you know General Gatacre by 
sight ? " 

" No, sir, I don't." 

" Then, pray," with cold displeasure, " how are 
you going to keep a sharp look out for him ? " 

" Well, sir, it's like this. The Sergeant says, ' If 
you sees an Officer a-fussin' and a-worryin' around, 
that's General Gatacre.' " 



CHAPTER VII 

A BURMESE ADVENTURE 

The Burmah War — A Subaltern's Job — A Six Months' Venture — 
An Englishman and a Gurkha alone — Up the Salween — Dacoits — 
Through Siam — American Missionaries — Their Kindness at 
Zimme — Loss of Saddlery and Pack Saddles — A Cigarette Case 
Incident — On Again — Healing an Old Lady — Kiang Tung — 
Trading — Ponies Confiscated— The Half-Caste Burman — An 
Outlaw— His Valuable Service — The Toothbrush — We Escape — 
Tracked — A Lost Carbine and nearly a Lost Head— Sunday Rest 
— Sapphires at Twopence Apiece — We Secure Sapphires and 
Cat's-Eyes — The French Banker's Valuation — The English 
Jeweller's — Sapphires Stolen — Mr. Gould the Consul — A Rough 
Sapphire for 40 Dollars — Where it Came From — A Very Old 
Bird 

IT was after the Burmah War had been running 
for some months, and whilst Sir George White 
was working eastwards towards the trans- 
Salween Shan States, that those responsible for the 
strategy of the campaign decided to find out whether 
there was not some easier way. All the chains of 
mountains and rivers in Burmah run roughly north 
and south, and therefore a direct move eastwards 
entailed crossing all of these at right angles ; whereas 
a route leading up convenient river valleys might 
lighten the task. I was then a subaltern in the 
Intelligence Branch, and was summoned one day by 
Colonel Bell, the head of that department, and 
asked if I knew of any officer who could sketch well, 
and would take on rather an arduous job. 

Two or three names were mentioned, and Colonel 
Bell grunted at each. 

" I suppose you wouldn't care to take it on your- 
self ? " 

103 



104 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

" Indeed I would," with great alacrity. 

For to tell the truth, sitting in an office tent col- 
lating other people's information, was not much 
in my line. To be strictly truthful, I loathed it. 
To be out and about, travelling through new and 
dangerous countries, that would indeed appeal to 
any subaltern. The outcome of these deliberations 
was that I was directed to undertake the work. I 
was to go accompanied only by a Gurkha orderly, 
who, with his Tartar features and dressed as a 
Shan, would pass as one of the many Tartar tribes 
to be found in that part of Asia. I also was to wear 
Shan dress, not with any hope of being mistaken for 
a Shan, or Chinaman, but to avoid attracting undue 
attention by the way. 

It was calculated that it would take about six 
months to work round, and to get back with the 
information required. A considerable portion of 
the route to be followed ran through hostile 
countries ; and not a single word of any of the 
languages or dialects of those parts did either of 
us know. But mere details of this sort do not 
necessarily trouble the British subaltern, he gets 
through somehow. The risks of the venture were 
only lightly and incidentally touched upon, and 
merely took the form of being advised to make a 
Will before starting. But it was very carefully 
impressed on us that it was very important to get 
back the information, even if we could not get back 
ourselves. 

So off we went, the Gurkha and myself, 
with £200 in gold leaf in a tobacco pouch, and 
with rolls of new two-anna bits stowed away in 
our pockets and bundles. First we went down to 
Moulmein by steamer, and thence worked up the 
Sal ween River for some hundreds of miles, but could 
not get through that way, or see the road for an 
army. Moreover, the country was swarming with 




^^v> ' 












MYSKl.K 1>KESSKI) AS A SHAN. I SSO — S7 



A BURMESE ADVENTURE 105 

bands of dacoits, and that we managed not to fall 
in with these was a piece of great good fortune. 

Retracing our steps, therefore, we made a dash 
eastwards across the Burmese border into Siam. 
Here we were again amongst peaceful and peace- 
loving people, but slightly on the avaricious side. 
However, new two-anna bits go a long way in a 
country where coin is scarce, so without much 
trouble or difficulty we worked up to Zimme in the 
north of Siam. 

There, much to our surprise, we came across an 
American missionary and his family, in reality half 
traders and half missionaries. Good people who 
carried a large and imposing Bible in the one hand, 
and with the other dealt in merchandise. A retail 
shop full of general wares, tinned provisions, 
saddlery, and every conceivable saleable article. 
The Siamese might take either the stores or the 
Bible, or both ; or for that matter might take 
neither. The Americans were most kind to us, 
and what was still more important gave us valuable 
information about the routes ahead, and how best 
to attain our goal. 

At Zimme, for some unknown reason, a deter- 
mined effort was made by the Siamese officials to 
prevent the further journey northwards. Indeed, 
every obstacle was placed in the way, and finally, 
the night before the contemplated departure, the 
whole of our saddlery and pack saddles were stolen. 
It was very apparent that this was a Govern- 
ment affair, for the penalty for theft in those days, 
in the northern provinces of Siam, was death, 
and numerous instances of the scrupulous honesty 
of the people in consequence of this law had been 
experienced. 

Time out of number would a villager come 
running after a wayfarer to restore an abandoned 
tin or bottle, for fear he should be accused of having 



io6 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

stolen it. And even at Zimme, two days before, a 
striking example of this universal horror of stealing 
had occurred. We had been sitting out late one 
night by the side of one of the main roads into the 
town, and in the darkness had dropped a silver 
cigarette case, and left it. The loss was not dis- 
covered till midday next day, when on search being 
made it was discovered, shining brightly, and lying 
in the middle of the road. Hundreds of Siamese, 
men, women, and children, must have passed that 
cigarette case, but not one would touch it. 

It was in this dilemma that the Americans came 
in strong and kind. They fitted us out completely 
with a new stock of saddlery, and sent us on 
our way rejoicing. Curiously enough they unwit- 
tingly conferred a further benefit ; for knowing 
the country and the dangers ahead, they arranged 
for us to travel with a caravan of traders, who 
were returning empty, along the very route we 
wanted to follow. These traders, who were Chinese 
Mohammedans from Yunnan, from this introduction 
jumped to the conclusion that at any rate one was 
an American missionary, that he was out in search 
of souls ; and possibly, and more reasonably, in 
search of dollars also. 

The caravan was now entering again the Shan 
States, and as the British were then at war with 
these very States, that little misunderstanding 
made a very sensible difference to a British Officer. 
The caravan of ponies travelled at a great rate. 
Starting at dawn, it pushed along at a good jog-trot 
pace, till about noon. Then off-saddle and rest, 
a paddy feed for the ponies, and a graze round. 
After a couple of hours the caravan loaded up again, 
and pushed on till evening. Sometimes it stopped 
at villages, and sometimes bivouacked in the forest, 
as occasion offered. At night the ponies were turned 
loose to graze about at will till dawn. 



A BURMESE ADVENTURE 107 

Every white man, and especially an Englishman, is 
ipso facto a skilled medical practitioner, wherever in 
the by-ways he wanders ! Only one white man, 
and he not a doctor, had been in this country, 
fifty years before ; yet his fame survived. On the 
present occasion only some quinine, a few Cockle's 
pills, a bottle of chlorodyne, and a pot of vaseline, 
composed our medical outfit, so we could not spare 
much for stray patients. This little medical store 
was, however, saved in a curious and effective 
manner. 

At one village there was an old woman with very 
bad fever, who asked to see the white wise-man. 
It was explained that there were no medicines to 
spare. But one of those present, who was a traveller 
and had been in Burmah, said that this did not 
matter in the least. He had himself been ill at 
Moulmein, and went to an English doctor ; and 
the English doctor wrote some charms on a piece 
of paper, and that made him quite well. In proof 
whereof he produced a prescription written out by 
the English doctor, which he had put in a little bag, 
and worn ever since round his neck. At his earnest 
solicitation therefore a charm on similar lines was 
written for the old lady. It read, however, " May 
God make you well soon " ; instead of Ac. Ros. iii. T, 
Cal. praep. gr. xxx., and the like. To the great sur- 
prise of the amateur doctor, but apparently to no 
one else's, the old lady turned up next morning 
before the caravan started, and said she now felt 
quite well ! 

Travelling on, after many days, the caravan came 
to Kiang-Tung, the capital of the Eastern Shan 
States. I and my orderly had now been some 
months travelling, and during that time had had 
no news from our own people, nor did we know 
how the British forces were now disposed. As 
far as could be judged we had arrived at about 



io8 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

the right latitude, so that if we turned westward 
we should eventually hit off Mandalay, or one of 
our columns. 

At Kiang Tung, in spite of the spurious reputation 
earned as American missionaries, we found our- 
selves in considerable peril. Our only friends, the 
caravan traders, had gone on, and left us ; and we 
two were alone in a large city full of bands of armed 
desperadoes. To disarm suspicion we opened a 
small stall in the market, and sold cloth and odds 
and ends of trade goods which we had brought with 
us ; partly as presents, and partly to trade our way 
along, where money was not current. We tried 
several times to get away, but the ponies were con- 
fiscated and we were kept virtually as prisoners in 
a small serai. It might leak out at any moment 
that one was an Englishman, and that, of course, 
very probably would mean death, and of the linger- 
ing sort. 

In this dilemma came to us a curious looking 
person dressed as a Burman. He spoke very good 
English, and said he was a half-caste, the son of an 
Englishman named Macgregor. He was born in 
Rangoon, but had long left those parts, and now 
traded with Yunnan. He evidently guessed that 
one was an Englishman ; but the blood told, and 
he kept his knowledge to himself. At first we 
thought he was a spy, as indeed he was, sent 
by the Chief to find out who we were. We were 
therefore very careful with him, and maintained 
stoutly the role of traders, and one an American 
at that. Bestowing on him a handsome present — 
to wit, two yards of scarlet tunic cloth, out of which 
he made a startling waistcoat — he was asked to help 
to get back the ponies, so that the journey might be 
continued. 

Next day he returned, and said the Chief would 
let us go if we would consent to give up our 



A BURMESE ADVENTURE 109 

arms. We had two Martini-Henry carbines, one 
double-barrelled shotgun, and one revolver ; but 
to part with these meant a short shrift either here, 
or on the first march out. Giving the Burman 
another handsome present, some dazzling buttons 
this time, he was asked to use his influence to get 
better terms, for it was impossible for a merchant 
to travel in the present disturbed state of the 
country without arms. It was further added that 
we were not without influence amongst the British, 
and could perhaps some day do the Burman a 
good turn. 

By sheer good luck that hit the right nail pre- 
cisely on the head. Out it all came. The Burman 
was an outlaw ! He wished most ardently to get 
back to Rangoon, but could not because of this 
ban. The exact yarn he spun proved later to be 
far from the truth, but these were unnecessary lies ; 
for in reward for the services he presently rendered 
it required no great effort later to get the ban re- 
moved. Anyway, the bargain was struck ; and it 
speaks well for the English name throughout the 
world, that a stray criminal" a thousand miles from 
anywhere would do a signal service to an English- 
man on the bare promise that he would repay that 
service, at a distant and mystical date, somewhere at 
the other end of the world. 

The further negotiations took the Oriental form 
of procrastination and bargaining. The Chief 
would let us go, but we must give him one 
rifle and the best riding pony — rather a pearl, by 
the way. As the result of the negotiation of days, 
those demands were at length discharged in full. 
A good fat wad of gold leaf, worth about £50 ; a 
rich Cashmere robe, one of the job lot brought for 
trading- and, with a touch of tragic humour, the 
one and only toothbrush ! This last item took a 
lot of negotiation, for Kiang Tung was 1000 miles 



no A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

from the nearest chemist's shop. What the Chief 
wanted with this precious article, unless it was to 
be worn as an aigrette in his turban, it is difficult 
to understand. Finally, after many days, the three 
ponies were handed back late one night. Before 
dawn next morning we were trekking westward in 
exceeding haste towards Mandalay. 

The first intimation that we were being tracked 
and followed came in a sudden and curious way. 
All through the journey I had, as part of my duties, 
made a rough survey of the route ; sometimes very 
rough, and sometimes fairly accurate. We were 
now going along a single file track through thick 
forest, and the only way to get a fairly accurate 
bearing was to let the ponies get a little ahead, and 
then to take a compass bearing on to the sound of the 
bells. On the present occasion I had lagged behind 
alone, as usual, to take the bearing. My carbine at 
full cock was resting against a tree trunk, to the 
right rear. At this time it happened that both my 
eyes were very bad from dirt and glare, and what 
not ; and as it was not feasible to bandage up both 
on the march, each was bandaged in turn for a 
spell, to give each an even chance. It so happened, 
at this moment, that the right eye was bandaged. 
Having taken the bearing, I was jotting it down in 
the book when the bells of another caravan sounded. 
Hastily slipping the book and compass into a 
pocket, I turned round to pick up my carbine. It 
was gone ! 

Here was a nice state of affairs ! In thick forest, 
an enemy's country, unarmed, and a loaded carbine 
at full cock in somebody else's hands close by ! 
I at once blew a whistle for the Gurkha, who was 
not far ahead, and meanwhile, with a considerable 
want of discretion, but moved thereto by wrath and 
indignation, went back along the path. The next 
thing I remembered was looking, point-blank, down 



A BURMESE ADVENTURE iii 

the muzzle of a Martini-Henry carbine, at very short 
range. Then a loud report, and then oblivion. 

And that was the end of the adventure, but I 
heard a good deal about that carbine for many 
months, indeed years afterwards. The Gurkha 
would say : 

" I am, of course, a mere soldier in the ranks, but 
one thing I do not lose, and that is my carbine. 
Your Honour, on the contrary, belonging to a nation 
of Princes, can do so without being tried by court 
martial ! "^ 

Resting at a village one Sunday, for we found 
that in this long and arduous trekking the observ- 
ance of the Mosaic law was a very sound piece of 
legislation, a small boy appeared, and squatting 
down began to unroll some unclean lags. Unfolding 
the innermost rag he produced a bright blue stone, 
one side cut and the others polished. A sapphire 
without a doubt. 

We asked him where he got it from. He pointed 
to the river bed, and by signs replied that it was 
dug up there, only higher up. Also by signs we 
enquired how much he wanted for it, and by way 
of demonstration held out a handful of loose cash. 
After gazing longingly at this, he chose out a new 
and glittering two-anna piece (twopence) and handed 
over the sapphire in exchange. 

This was interesting, a place on this terrestrial 
globe where sapphires could be dug up out of a dry 
river bed and gladly sold for twopence. This was 
a youth to be cultivated, and we invited him to 
break the Sabbath still further and dig up more 
sapphires, and for each of these he would receive 
the handsome guerdon of a new two-anna piece. 
For, as before mentioned, we had rolls of these, 
fresh from the bank, for use by the way, but never 

^ An Indian soldier if he loses his carbine or rifle is invariably tried 
by court martial, like a Naval Officer who loses his ship. 



112 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

before had contemplated buying more than a small 
chicken, or a dozen eggs with each. 

Towards evening the urchin returned with eighteen 
more sapphires and two cat's-eyes, each wrapped up 
in a separate rag. For each and all, including the 
cat's-eyes, he received one new two-anna bit. We 
took the precaution of taking the latitude and 
longitude of this village, never visited before by 
white man, and made plans for raising a company 
to exploit this rich river. 

Many months afterwards, at Bangkok, I was talk- 
ing to a French banker who was by way of being 
knowledgable about stones, and it occurred to me 
that, without saying where they came from, I would 
get his opinion on the sapphires. He looked at 
them, and admired them, and handed them back. 

" What do you think they are worth, Monsieur ? " 

" On my parole, almost 1250 francs each on an 
average." 

This was good news, an average of £50 apiece, 
and the cost of each a bright two-anna piece. 
Visions of a palace in Park Lane and a coach and 
four flashed across the subaltern's eyes. 

Some months later, on return to civilisation, I took 
them to a well-known jeweller for valuation. He 
looked at them with some curiosity, and then got 
a magnifying glass. Then he called another expert, 
and they both looked at the stones one by one. 
Still they seemed puzzled, and looked at me rather 
suspiciously. I told them very indefinitely where 
I had bought them, but not the price paid. Taking 
up another sapphire they tried to scratch mine but 
failed ; next they took a diamond and made a 
scratch. Then they both smiled discreetly. 

" We are afraid these are not genuine," they said. 

" Dash my wig ! Not genuine ! Why I bought 
them in a little village a thousand miles from an}^- 
where." 



A BURMESE ADVENTURE 113 

" That may be so, sir, but they are not genuine. 
And if we are not greatly mistaken they came from 
England, and possibly Birmingham." 

My great and good Country ! Faked sapphires 
in the heart of Asia ! But anyway they were cheap. 
Just as I was going out of the shop I remembered 
the two cat's-eyes, and went back. 

" These two are also fakes, I imagine ? " 

They examined them carefully, and their verdict 
was : 

"No, they are not fakes. They are not very 
good, but might be worth a couple of sovereigns 
each." 

Oh ! why had we not brought away a cartload of 
these ! 

The cat's-eyes were set in rings and disappeared, 
probably on fair damsels' fingers. The sapphires 
also disappeared. They were stolen when I was 
stopping in a country house, and I hope proved as 
great a shock to the thief as to me. 

But I was not the only victim in those far lands. 
Mr. Gould, our Consul at Bangkok, was touring in 
the vicinity of the Chantaboung sapphire mines, 
and in the evening, in the course of his walk, strolled 
down towards them. The miners, mostly Shans, 
were returning from their day's labour, and accost- 
ing one he asked him what luck he had had that 
day. The Shan produced half a dozen dirty-looking 
stones covered with mud. 

" What do you want for them ? " asked the Con- 
sul. 

" You may take your pick for forty dollars," 
replied the Shan. 

" Forty dollars ! Go to blazes," said the Consul, 
and walked on. He had only gone a few yards, 
however, when he changed his mind. Anyway, forty 
dollars was not much one way or the other, and he 
might by chance pick up something good. 

H 



114 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

" Hi ! Hullo ! Come back," he shouted. " All 
right, I'll give you forty dollars for my pick." 

The Shan held out his hand and Mr. Gould chose 
one stone, more or less at a venture, for all were 
covered with mud. 

A year or so after he took the stone to a well- 
known jeweller in London, and asked him to have 
it cut. 

A few days later he received a note from the 
jeweller, asking him to go and see him. And the 
purport of the jeweller's communication was that 
the stone was a fake, and made in Europe ! 

This was a champion effort ! To salt a real 
sapphire mine with faked stones ! Or was the Shan 
a very old bird indeed ? 




STAFF COU 
Top row from left to ri>?ht : Lieut. Laffan, R.E.(i); Capt. P.Iood, R.I.F.; I.t. Piiiiiev, R.F.(2): Ca[)t. 

Cam. Highldrs.Cs); Capt. Taylor, R.A. 

Second row from left to ri^ht : I.t. Dunn, Norfolks ; I.t. Cjunt (lleichen, (.;.(;.{6); l>t. Walters, R.1..F 

R.r..do); Major Peters, 4th Hussar.s; Capt. Stewart. R.A.: Capt. Knight, Huffs; Lt. Crawford. R.A. . 

Third row from left to right: Capt. Hudson; Caot. .\ston, R.M..\.(ii): C^apt. Vivian. Buffs; Capt. G;| 
Fourth row from left to right; Capt. Allen, W.I.R.; ("apt. Crombie, Hants; Major Wintour, R.W.K.(li 
Now; (i)Colonel H. D. LiTan. C.M.O. Tretired) ; (2) Major-Gener.al R. J. Pinnev. C.l'..; (3) Major-Gen^ 

Gen. Count Glenchen, K.C.V.O., C. 15. C. M.G., I) S.O., K luery ; (7) (len. Sir I5ru:e Hamilton. G.C. P... KQ 

K.C.1.E.,C.P.; (lo)Lt.-Gen. Sir John Cow.in,, K.C.B., .M.V.O.; (i i) Hrig.-Gcn. Sir Giorge .Vston, K.C.H.: 'i! 




. Liiulley, Royals(3); I,t. Woodward, Leicesters ; Capt. S!r H.Johnson, KOY.L.I.(4); Lt. J. S. Kwart, 

1 Kruce Hamilton, E. Yorksfy); Lt. F. Davies, G.G.(8); Lt. Vounghusband, (niidesCg); Lt. J. Cowans, 

rincolns(i2): Major Hon. M. Talbot (1:5); Major Forester-Walker, R.B.; Major Hawkins, R.H.A. 
t. Hon. A. Hardin-, R.S.F. 

in. J. Lindley ; (4) Brijj.-Gen. Sir Henry Johnson ; (5) Lt. -Gen. Sir John Spencer Ewart, K.C.K.; (6) ^fajor 
!|(8)Lt.-Gen. Sir Francis Davies, K.C.H., K.C.M.Ci.; (q) Major-Gen. Sir George Vounghusband, K.C.M.G- 
-Cen. R. N. Gamble, C.B.,D.S.O.; (i3)Colonel Hon. M. Talbot, C.K.; (14) Brig.-Gen. F. Wintour, C.B. 



CHAPTER VIII 

AT THE STAFF COLLEGE 

A Staff Revival — No More a " Mug's " Game — The New Class — 
Sir Charles Monro — Sir Spencer Ewart — " The Tyranny of the 
Horse " — Sir John Cowans — " The Count " — Sir Francis 
Davies — The Artists and Collaborateurs — Bunbury and Ofifley 
Shore — " Boy " Hornby, m.f.h. — Jack Lindley, m.f.h. — " The 
Cock Grouse " — And his Moor — The Duke's Day — Sir George 
Aston — A £^o Horse — Heavy Haulage — Nearly Won the 
Aldershot Point-to-Point— Hon. A. Hardinge, 'Ard 'Ard — A 
Souvenir of 1870 — The Staff College Coach — An Upset — A 
Nightmare — Sir Francis Clery — The French Professor— 
" Marked with Extraordinary Liberality " — The Liberality 
Explained — Sir Frederick Maurice — The Waterloo Campaign— 
A Remarkable Discovery — Strange Disappearance of No. 64 — 
Col. Lonsdale Hale — Col. Cooper King — Col. Henderson of 
Stonewall Jackson — " Scotland for Ever " — From the Scot- 
tish Officers — The Battle of Ballybunnion — From the Oirish 
Officers — Pork Chops and the Duke 

AT the time when we joined the Staff College 
it was just beginning to become popular 
^ in the Army. By popular is meant that 
there was a keen competition to get there. Vacancies 
were few and candidates many. For a considerable 
number of years after it was opened the Staff College 
was looked on with some disfavour, by the old officers 
because it was a new-fangled notion, and by the 
young officers as a *' mug's game." By " mug " being 
understood a brother officer, who neither rode nor 
shot, nor played any games, who drank water at 
Mess, went to bed early, and " swatted " at algebra, 
fortification, and French as a recreation. 

But when officers in general, and young officers 
in particular, grasped the fact that the " mug " 
before long blossomed forth into a brass hat, a 

"5 



ii6 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

frock-coat, and shiny boots, and was the official 
fidtis Achates of the General, and one to whom the 
Colonel was exceedingly civil, they began to take 
notice. They began to say : 

" Darn my skin ! If old Smuggins is good enough 
to be a Staff Officer, dashed if Tm not too." 

The Staff College had caught on, and instead of 
those only who were held in least esteem coming 
forward, the best bloods, and the best all-round men, 
began to compete. Indeed, it was now ordained 
that both the Colonel of the regiment, and the 
General, had to swear strange oaths that the com- 
petitor was of the very best quality. And further 
the General had to take him on his staff for a month, 
to make quite sure before swearing. Mistakes were 
doubtless made, but taken as a whole a very good 
all-round class of officer began to filter into the 
Staff College. 

There were consequently a very happily selected 
body of officers at the Staff College in 1890-1. 
Not only bright and sporting, but most of them 
hard-working good soldiers, and of these many have 
since performed great services to the State. 

Amongst others was Charlie Monro, ^ one of the 
most cheery, best souls that ever stepped. Always 
laughing and chaffing, but a hard worker, and one 
of the stoutest and best soldiers and Generals now 
serving the King. It was he who performed the 
military miracle of evacuating the Gallipoli Penin- 
sula without loss, and who has now gone to India 
as Commander-in-Chief. 

Spencer Ewart, then a subaltern in the Cameron 
Highlanders, was one of the bright particular wits 
of our time. He afterwards rose to be Adjutant- 
General and a Member of the Army Council, and is 
now holding a high command. It was Spencer 
Ewart who had the courage of his opinions as regards 

^ General Sir Charles Monro, g.c.m.g., k.c.b. 



AT THE STAFF COLLEGE 117 

horses, and other obsolete modes of progression. 
In those days, when Sir Francis Clery was Comman- 
dant of the Staff College, himself a great horseman 
and rider to hounds, it got about amongst us that 
no one could hope to get a good report from the 
Staff College, or any chance of a Staff appointment 
in the future, unless he rode regularly with the 
Staff College Drag Hounds. Spencer Ewart would 
have none of this. He used to screw up his mouth 
to one side, in a way which made us all laugh, and 
say : 

" I am a Highlander, and always have been a 
Highlander, and intend to go on being a High- 
lander. I hate the sight of a horse, and absolutely 
refuse to bow down to the tyranny of the horse." 

Incidentally this did me a good turn, for he had 
to keep up a charger, which possibly he did not 
know by sight. This noble steed he used to lend 
to me, and together we won several little cups and 
things. 

Spencer Ewart was a very clever fellow and a 
hard worker, with the soundest judgment, and 
rapidly worked his way to the front. 

Jack Cowans, 1 too, was a friend we all loved. I 
don't suppose he has an enemy in the world. A 
wonderful flow of good humour, and always with 
a good story to tell. There never was a kinder 
man, except Lord Roberts. In the midst of the 
most tremendous work he finds time for everybody, 
great or small. He will answer at once a most 
trivial note from an old friend, and do his best to 
help him in his small trouble, whatever it may be. 
Jack Cowans at the Staff College was one of those 
men who seemed to have nothing to do except 
enjoy himself, and make others happy. Yet he was 
an exceedingly able and clever fellow, who really 
worked as hard as any one. This characteristic he 

^ Lieut. -General Sir John Cowans, k.c.b., m.v.o. 



ii8 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

has carried through Hfe ; he can work Uke lightning, 
sound good work too. He is a bom organiser of 
the highest stamp. It was he who, during the 
South African War, organised and managed the 
transport of some half a million soldiers to a cam- 
paign 6000 miles across the ocean, and maintained 
them there for nearly three years. As Quarter- 
master-General in the Great War he has exceeded 
all his previous records, and has earned in history 
a very great name. 

" The Count," as we called Count Gleichen,^ then 
a subaltern in the Grenadier Guards, was also a 
great favourite. He was a very quiet, unassuming 
fellow, but with a very ready dry humour, more 
often expressed in pictorial guise. He was a cousin 
of Queen Victoria. The Count, Bunbury," and 
Offiey Shore ^ were the chief artists ; and Charlie 
Monro, Spencer Ewart, and Jack Cowans mostly 
supplied the witticisms to be perpetrated with pen 
and ink. Some of these were really works of art, 
and most amusing to boot. They probably lie in 
the archives of the Staff College, though some, I 
hear, have disappeared. 

Frank Davies* was in our lot. A burly Guards- 
man, and a very hard and keen soldier. He also 
has greatly distinguished himself in the Great War 
in command of a Division, and is now Military 
Secretary at the War Office. 

Master of the Hounds, our first year, was " Boy " 
Hornby, of the Rifle Brigade. Boy Hornby was a 
most cheerful soul and permeated perennial cheerful- 
ness round. He had already had the distinction of 
twice reading his own obituary notice in the news- 
paper, which possibly added to his cheerful outlook. 
Once he was killed by the Press of cholera, and the 

^ Major-General Count Gleichen, k.c.v.o., c.b., c.m.g. 
- Major-General W. E. Bunbury, c.b. 
' Major-General O. B. F. Shore, c.b., c.i.e., d.s.o. 
^ Lieut. -General Sir Francis Davies, k.c.b., k. c.m.g. 



AT THE STAFF COLLEGE 119 

second time slaughtered by the same deadly agency 
on the field of battle. Nevertheless he is still alive 
and hearty. Boy Hornby was one of the pioneers 
of polo, and was one of the very best players in the 
eighties. He left the service soon after, and I last 
met him at Hurlingham a few years ago, sitting with 
two remarkably good-looking ladies, his grown-up 
daughters, whom I had last seen before they were 
born, so to speak. I sat down with them, and 
then Boy Hornby began to expatiate, in a loud and 
cheerful voice, on the sorrows of a man who had 
ugly daughters. 

" Look at those two," pointing at the two beauti- 
ful ladies. " What's the good of being a dam' good- 
looking fellow like I am, and then to have daughters 
like that ? " 

They both smiled at him quite serenely, and one 
of them patted him on the arm and said, " Never 
mind. Daddy. At any rate, we are good." 

Jack Lindley^ was Master of the Hounds our 
second year, and as popular as his predecessor. 
His was really a most genial and sanguine tempera- 
ment, but it amused him, and us, to give a mildly 
pessimistic tone to his converse. So he was dubbed 
the " Cock Grouse." 

One of the tests by which the students were 
supposed to demonstrate their extraordinary acu- 
men, as well as extreme accuracy in topography, 
was for each separately to go out and survey so 
many square miles of country ; and on their return 
these portions were joined together and mounted 
for exhibition. Our term did our map, and it was 
mounted, and gingered up, if one may use such a 
term in so solemn a connection, by an expert, and 
laid out on the billiard table for the old Duke to 
inspect and, we hoped, admire, when he came down 
a few days hence, to say what good boys we were. 

* Major-General the Hon. J. Lindley. 



120 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

On the morning of the Duke's arrival I went in to 
look at the map, just to see that my bit was all 
right, and happened to notice just above it, on the 
left edge of the map, Lindley's effort. 

Gazing at it, I observed that it was mostly moor- 
land, and was thinking what a lucky dog he had 
been to have so easy a piece of country to sketch, 
when a golden thought occurred to me. I nipped 
off and got a pen and some Indian ink, and very 
neatly printed on the margin. 

To the Grouse Moor — >■ 

By great good fortune, these being the only words 
on the broad margin, at once caught the Duke's eye. 

" Grouse Moor ? By Jove, you are lucky dogs 
having grouse shooting at your very doors. Didn't 
know you had grouse in these parts." 

This was Greek to everyone present except my- 
self. But after the Duke had gone, everyone dashed 
in to see what the mysterious words on the margin 
were. I think Jack Cowans, or Spencer Ewart, got 
the credit for that mild jeu d'esprit. 

Amongst others learning to be Staff Officers with 
us was George Aston, ^ known as " Brackish Jack," 
because he was in the Marines. He was very 
desirous of winning the Aldershot Point-to-Point 
Race, and asked me to ride for him. He had bought 
a horse for £30, or perchance guineas, which when 
he had been quite himself might have looked like a 
Derby winner. At this period in his career he was, 
however, decidedly unsound in three legs out of 
four, and roared like a bull. But he was a fizzer 
to go all the same, and jumped like a bird literally, 
for he just skimmed over everything like a great 
bird. His legs, however, were naturally a delicate 
point, and it took a good deal of anxious endeavour 
to get him to the post sound. On all four legs he 

' Brigadier-General Sir George Aston, k.c.b. 



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AT THE STAFF COLLEGE 121 

had cot ton- wool bandages, and at the starting-post 
might be observed several of the Aldershot Cavalry 
bloods on 200-guinea horses, covertly smiling at 
him. 

Off we went, a 3j-mile course in South Berk- 
shire, and to this day I believe that gallant old 
horse would have won, but for one serious defect 
in the course. He was such a big, free-going horse 
that jumping into an ordinary narrow country 
road, in clearing the near bank he arrived with his 
chest almost up against the opposite bank. Certainly 
no room was left for any but a cobby, active horse 
to hop over the next fence. So I nipped off, hauled 
him up and through the hedge, up and on again. 
As bad luck would have it, we had to cross five such 
roads, and at each one I had to haul him out the 
other side. Yet when we entered the straight there 
was not a hundred yards between him and the 
winning horse. Our little lot from the Staff College 
that day were not a little proud of themselves, for, 
as far as I remember, we had five out of the first 
six in, against the whole Aldershot Division. 

One of the five that day was Hardinge, a brother 
of the late Viceroy of India, and of "Punch" 
Hardinge, " The Viscount," also of our term, and 
a beautiful rider. I had been at Sandhurst too 
with Hardinge — 'Ard, 'Ard, we used to call him, after 
one of his own pet expressions, and had known him 
all my life. We always thought he was an object 
lesson to all those young bloods who find that they 
cannot live in a good regiment without a thumping 
allowance. I don't know what Hardinge had by 
way of private means, but it must have been very 
little, yet he kept up two or three horses, and 
hunted and raced with the best. But to do this 
he had to live a very simple life indeed. We used to 
wonder how he lived at all. A couple of eggs for 
breakfast, perhaps a little cold meat at lunch, and 



122 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

a diminutive dinner, nothing to drink but tea or 
water, and no smokes. His mufti clothes and uni- 
form too had to serve a very long time. This fine 
rider and sportsman met his death riding out of 
Hyde Park. His horse slipped up on the road and 
he was instantly killed. 

In my room. No. 21 at the Staff College, was a 
square block of lead about 6 in. by 4 in. by 
I in., made out of bullets picked up on the battle- 
field of Worth by a former occupant of the room. 
He had scratched his initials on it, and each suc- 
cessor in the room had done the same. I scratched 
mine when I left the Staff College, and left the 
block on the mantelpiece where I had found it. 
Apparently some years later some collector of 
souvenirs walked off with it, for it has now dis- 
appeared. 

It became one of my duties to drive the Staff 
College coach. I am no whip, but no one else cared 
for the job. So I took many lessons from Courtney 
of the 13th Hussars, a first-class whip, who was 
leaving, and hoped to be of some use. But unfortu- 
nately, early in my reign I upset the coach driving 
up to the grand entrance by night, and after that only 
my most devoted friends would sit behind me. 
For years afterwards my form of nightmare, after 
Welsh rarebit and that sort of thing, was having to 
drive a coach, through heavy traffic, from inside, 
and leaning out of the right-hand window. I 
have had some shocking drives that way. 

Colonel A'Court was another Staff College man 
of our time who has made a great name for himself, 
writing under the name of Colonel Repinton for 
The Times. He is probably the best known and 
most able writer on military subjects in Europe, 
and The Times made a good find when they dis- 
covered him. 

Another writer of our time at the Staff College 



AT THE STAFF COLLEGE 123 

was Colonel Maude, r.e., a very clever man with 
a ready gift for the pen. As far as I remember, he 
and the College parted company for a period owing 
to a little difierence of opinion. Maude was very 
direct at thinking and direct at acting, and hated 
what children call " let's pretend " : in other 
words, elaborate schemes wherein all sorts of things 
were " pretended." One day we were given a 
billeting scheme. That is, we were each told off 
to represent a Staff Officer in an advancing army, 
and were sent on to various towns and villages to 
prepare billets, and tell them off on paper to our 
imaginary troops. Maude was sent to Reading, 
I think. To commit the whole scheme to paper 
was a long day's job ; but he returned by the next 
train, and his billeting scheme when sent in con- 
sisted of one paragraph. 

'* The day was fine and the barometer rising. 
I therefore ordered the troops to bivouac instead of 
putting them into billets." 

The professor did not like that. Probably he 
thought it was meant for what the soldier calls "lip." 

Sir Francis Clery was Commandant of the College, 
and we rarely saw him ; but he seemed to know 
all about us and our smallest doings. My first 
interview with him was over a little matter of my 
knowledge of the French language. Much to the 
surprise of all, on passing into the Staff College it 
was noticed that the examiners had conceived a very 
exaggerated opinion of my knowledge of French and 
had marked me very high. The French Professor 
at the Staff College soon found this out and reported 
my deficiency to the Commandant, evidently think- 
ing I had been cribbing at the examination. So up 
went a report to the War Office, and my papers and 
those of the candidates seated on each side, in front 
and behind, were re-examined. The result was that 
an answer came back : 



124 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

*' This Officer has evidently not used unfair means 
by gaining assistance from his neighbours, but it 
appears that owing to an oversight he has been 
marked with extraordinary HberaUty " ! 

I had a shrewd notion how the hberahty occurred. 
My French tutor gave me three essays to learn off 
by heart, and assured me that we were bound to 
have one or other set in the examination. One was 
about Napoleon. To my horror, when the examina- 
tion came none of my three certainties were amongst 
the subjects for an essay. The nearest approach 
was an essay on the Volunteer Force. That being 
so, after careful thought, I wrote : 

" M. I'Examinateur, it is with regret the most 
profound that I have to inform you that having 
only just returned to England after many years 
in India, I do not know anything about the Volun- 
teers, but " 

And then I ground off our old friend Napoleon. 

Another who was favoured by fortune in the 
entrance examination was Bruce Hamilton,^ but 
this was told me under seal of secrecy one day when 
we were walking out together. Bruce Hamilton 
was a most charming and nice fellow, and was, I 
believe, with Pomeroy Colley at Majuba Hill. He 
and his brother Hubert Hamilton, who was killed 
in France, both worked their way to the front in 
a manner which did credit to their Staff College 
training. 

Amongst the professors was Sir Frederick Maurice, 
the well-known writer on military subjects. We 
were given a Memoire, as it was called, to write for 
him, on the Waterloo campaign. One of the knotty 
points, for three-quarters of a century, had ap- 
parently been, why the British did not blow up the 
bridge at Charleroi, when they retreated before the 
French to Quatre-Bras. Naturally neither had I 

* General Sir Bruce Hamilton, g.c.b., k.c.v.o. 



AT THE STAFF COLLEGE 125 

the foggiest notion, but as I was writing the Memoire 
it occurred to me in a casual way that possibly the 
reason why the British had not blown up the afore- 
said bridge was because they had no gunpowder 
wherewith to do so. 

That was merely an idle and tentative suggestion, 
but it raised quite a respectable furore in the mili- 
tary epistolary world. When the time came for 
giving us back our Memoires, Sir Frederick gave 
us a lecture on their general merits, and demerits ; 
naturally as a matter of discipline, chiefly the 
latter. But he reserved one point for special com- 
ment. He said : 

" One interesting and very important point, new 
to most of us students of military history, has been 
brought forward by one of you — No. 64 (that was 
my number). He mentions that probably the reason 
why the bridge of Charleroi was not blown up was 
because the British had not at the moment sufficient 
powder to effect this hitherto unexplained omission. 
That is a very interesting discovery indeed, and I 
should like to confer with No. 64 after the lecture 
as to the source from which he obtained this most 
important military detail." 

Needless to say that No. 64 was the very first 
to escape from the lecture hall, and avoided Sir 
Frederick Maurice with great cunning for several 
weeks after. 

Amongst those who came in to lecture us occa- 
sionally were Colonel Lonsdale-Hale, Colonel Cooper- 
King, and Colonel Henderson. All first-class lec- 
turers, who taught one more in an hour than could 
be acquired in days of undirected study. 

Colonel J. R.Henderson, the world-renowned author 
of Stonewall Jackson, was a very fine fellow, as well 
as lecturer and writer. We had been cadets together, 
and again met here in a higher scholastic atmo- 
sphere. He was one who impressed you as a great 



126 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

man, and had he lived would have been invaluable 
to England in this Great War, for he had a Napo- 
leonic grasp of strategy. 

Just before he died I met him in the United 
Service Club, in rather a bad light, and at once 
chaffed him on getting back his figure, for when we 
last met he was on the burly side. 

" Yes, old boy, hard work, I expect," he answered 
quite cheerily. 

A few weeks after I saw the death of this truly 
great man in the newspaper. 

Filled with generous impulse, the Scottish Officers 
put their purses together and presented the Mess 
with a large engraving of Miss Thompson's cele- 
brated picture, " Scotland for Ever," which depicts 
the Scots Greys at the Battle of Waterloo on their 
grey horses, headed by one particularly fierce 
animal, charging straight at the observer. Under 
it was inscribed on a brass plate, " From the Scottish 
Officers." This picture was hung in a place of 
honour at the end of the ante-room, and grateful 
thanks given to the donors. 

At the end of the year, when the Duke came 
down to inspect us he would usually take up his 
position with his back to the fire, whilst we were all 
gracefully grouped in the offing, and the professors 
filled the middle distance on each side. The Com- 
mandant then read out his report, and the number 
of marks obtained by each student, in each subject, 
and so forth. During this, to any but the victim, 
somewhat tedious ordeal, the Duke was to be 
observed gazing fixedly over our heads, as we thought 
at "Scotland for Ever," and all the Scottish Officers 
felt a glow of conscious merit, whilst we mere 
English wished we had eclipsed it with "St. George 
and the Dragon." 

So interested in the picture did the Duke become 
that he pulled out his glasses and looked still more 



AT THE STAFF COLLEGE 127 

fixedly at it. In spite of the tenseness of the occa- 
sion, when at any moment one might hear one's 
doom, some of us began to look round, and then for 
the first time discovered something new. Beneath 
" Scotland for Ever," which, as before mentioned, 
was a very large picture, appeared a very small 
one indeed in a massive gold frame. From where 
we were we could not see what the subject was, and 
turned our attention once again to the business in 
hand. When this was all over, and the Duke had 
given us his blessing, he advanced on " Scotland for 
Ever," and the heavily framed picture beneath it. 
We heard him laughing heartily, and when we 
could decently approach discovered the cause of 
this merriment. 

The very small picture in the heavy gold frame 
depicted an Irishman on a donkey charging down 
the village street, thereby stampeding a pig which 
had upset an Irish peasant woman, and on the other 
hand frightened all the ducks and geese into mad 
flight. The picture was named " The Battle of 
Bally bunnion," and underneath, on a neat brass 
plate, was inscribed " From the Oirish Officers." The 
artist and perpetrator of this pleasantry was Captain 
Bunbury. 

There was a prevailing notion in the seventies 
and eighties of last century, a notion which had 
almost been confirmed into a tradition, that above 
all things the Duke liked pork chops for lunch. 
Doubtless he had once eaten pork chops at a mess, 
and expressed his approval of them. Yet it is true, 
*' a little is a good thing, but too much is enoff," as 
our Gallic friends say. However, there was the 
tradition, so that wherever the Duke went, and at 
whatever Mess he lunched, pork chops confronted 
him ; whilst the Mess President smiled complacently 
to himself at his own exceeding tact and forethought. 
The Duke, who was a kind and courteous Prince, 



128 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

bore up against this infliction for many years, and 
one of the leading mathematicians of the day calcu- 
lated up exactly how many pigs H.R.H. had been 
compelled to eat in that period. 

At last, however, in desperation, he confided to 
one of his staff, with a certain old-fashioned wealth 
of language, that if he ever again saw a pork chop 
in a regimental Mess it would go hard with that 
regiment. Our Mess President happily had heard 
of this, and carefully excluded pork chops from the 
lunch menu, with the happiest results. The Duke 
said it was the best Mess he had ever been in, and 
went away in his most genial mood. 

As I have said, in the days when we went to the 
Staff College it was just emerging from the times 
when it was considered a " mug's game " to go 
there. And perhaps it helped the Staff College a 
good deal to get through the fog, when the Staff 
College XI could handsomely beat the Aldershot 
Division at cricket ; and could place five out of the 
first six in the Aldershot Divisional Light-weight 
Point-to-Point Race. 



CHAPTER IX 

SOLDIERING ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER 

Peace and War — A Prisoner of War — General Sher Af zul — His Escort 
— The Modest General — A Matter of Buttons — The Enraged 
Soldiery — Diplomacy to the Front — The History of a Greatcoat 
— An Irish Stew in June — Handing Over to the Civil — Intense 
Agony of the General — The Police Officer Adamant — A Find of 
;^2o,ooo — A War Correspondent — The Times First in the Field — 
The Times Last in the Field — While the Cat's Away — -The 
Gambler — " Prepare to Meet thy God " 

IN India it is one day peace and next day war, 
and the two glide into each other, without 
much fuss, and out again at the other end. 
It was so with the ReUef of Chitral, about which my 
brother Frank and I have already written with 
sufficient verbosity. ^ At one moment we were 
sitting in profound peace at the Mess of the King's 
Royal Rifles, and the next we were mobilizing to 
rescue a garrison 250 miles distant through a 
practically unmapped region of stupendous moun- 
tains, inhabited by hostile warriors of considerable 
ferocity. 

After the Relief of Chitral in 1895, it was decided 
to send the opposing General, Sirdar Sher Afzul, 
whom we had captured, to India, as a prisoner of 
war. He was placed in my charge, and I was given 
a company of British Infantry and a small Cavalry 
escort to guard him through two hundred miles of 
mountainous country that lay between us and the 
Indian railway. The party was to move down 

» The Relief of Chitral, by Capt. G. J. Younghusband and Capt. F. E. 
Younghusband. 

I 129 



130 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

slowly, march by march, and at each halting-place 
would find a camp pitched, and a relief escort ready. 

The prisoner was most amenable, and gave no 
trouble. His only complaint was that he found it 
" difficult and embarrassing to dress and undress, 
and to say his prayers, with a Highlander's bayonet 
within eighteen inches of his back." This legitimate 
grievance being removed, the march continued 
pleasantly, day by day, till the cavalcade reached 
a place called Khar in the Swat Valley. Here, whilst 
taking a short rest under some trees during the heat 
of the day, a mixed deputation approached. 

This consisted of the Adjutant, some other Officers, 
the Sergeant-Major, and some Sergeants of one of 
the oldest of His Majesty's regiments, which chanced 
to be encamped close by. They had a complaint to 
make. It was that the prisoner of war, Sher Afzul, 
was wearing their regimental buttons, and they 
wished to flay him alive, or otherwise horribly dis- 
pose of him, for so doing. Sher Afzul's costume, 
when we took him in the cold heights near Chitral, 
was an Astrakhan fur cap, a double-breasted Russian 
greatcoat of the warmest description, thick breeches, 
and long Russian boots. We had certainly mildly 
wondered why he retained this exceedingly inappro- 
priate costume in the extreme June heat nearing the 
borders of the plains of India. But, beyond noticing 
that he had brass buttons on his greatcoat, no one 
had appreciated that they were British, and belonged 
to the old and gallant Bedfordshire regiment. 

This fact, however, being verified, the enraged 
soldiery were pacified with soothing words, and it 
was promised to retrieve the buttons in a possibly 
less sanguinary manner. As we rode on, therefore, 
I ranged up alongside Sher Afzul, and explained to 
him that the English were a quaint and curious 
nation, with some quite unexplainable habits and 
customs, and that one of these was to adorn certain 




F.llioit &■ Fry 



CAl'TAIN CHARI.KS TOWNSHEN D, COM M AN 1 )1 M", IN THE DEI ENCE OK CHITRAI., 
1S9S, AND AS MAJOK-CENERAI, IN THE DEFENCE OK K IT- Kl- AM A R A, I915 — 16 



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ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER 131 

regiments with buttons of divers metals and devices. 
Further, that they bitterly and hotly resented any- 
one who did not belong to that particular regiment 
wearing the peculiar buttons it affected. 

Sher Afzul looked sideways in a somewhat furtive 
and fearful manner, as if he suspected that this par- 
able concealed some deep and horrible design. Then 
getting very pale, and dropping great beads of 
sweat, partly doubtless attributable to the heavy 
Russian coat, he replied with caution : 

" Without doubt, the English are a nation of 
princes ! " which, however polite, did not seem very 
relevant. 

" Yes, quite so ; but to get to the matter in hand. 
On that greatcoat of yours you have the buttons of 
the regiment we have just passed through, and they 
are somewhat displeased, and would be obliged if 
you would return them to the regiment." 

A look of immense relief came over the General's 
face, and he beamed on me ; a smile which implied, 
" Is that all ? " Yet with Oriental gravity, he 
merely said : 

" Your Honour has only to give the order, and 
they shall be yours to do as you will." 

" Thank you ; you shall have another set to re- 
place them. May it be asked where you got them ? 
They probably have a curious history, for you come 
from Central Asia, far from where that British regi- 
ment has ever been quartered." 

" I bought them in Kabul, and know nothing 
more about them," he replied, with a slight return 
of anxiety. 

Afterwards we traced out the story. They proved 
to be buttons off a British Officer's greatcoat. Two 
years before such a coat had been stolen near Pesha- 
war, and had never been recovered. This coat had 
been sold by the thief, possibly the Officer's own 
servant, and had since been traded through to 



132 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

Kabul ; then gradually descended in social and in- 
trinsic value, till the buttons became too good for 
the coat. They were then transferred to a new 
Russian greatcoat, and this General Sher Afzul had 
bought as we saw it. 

At the next halting-place, before five minutes had 
elapsed, the buttons came over in a curiously prompt 
manner, and were in due course returned to the regi- 
ment that owned them. 

Next day the General appeared in the same great- 
coat, though the weather was now excessively hot ; 
its glory perhaps somewhat dimmed by the hasty 
substitution of tin trouser buttons of the most im- 
poverished description, in place of their gorgeous 
predecessors. 

" Surely you are rather hot in that coat ? " I ven- 
tured to remark. " Can I lend you, or buy you, 
some cooler garment ? " Again the General looked 
at the British Officer furtively and with great sus- 
picion, and answering somewhat shortly : 

" No, I prefer this." 

Everyone to his own tastes. If he liked to be 
turned into an Irish stew, inside a double-breasted 
Russian greatcoat, by a June sun, that was his 
affair. 

The following day the prisoner and his escort 
arrived at their journey's end, where it had been 
arranged to hand General Sher Afzul over to the 
Civil authorities. Under their arrangements he 
would be conducted to his future place of residence, 
a salubrious station in the Himalayas. On taking 
over a State prisoner it is apparently the custom 
of the Civil authorities to fill in an identification 
paper, giving his height, appearance, and any par- 
ticular marks or crosses he may have ; a swivel eye, 
or what not. Also an exact list is taken of the clothes 
he has on, or off, and of his other possessions. This 
seemed an ordinary, and not too obnoxious a pro- 



ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER 133 

cedure, but the querulous objection raised to it by 
the General was quite pathetic. He implored and 
beseeched that he might be saved this indignity ; 
he even went down on his knees and wept bitterly, 
and implored the military to intervene, adding that 
they were his father and. also his mother. They had 
been very kind indeed to him, and had exercised 
no tyranny — except, possibly, in the matter of the 
buttons. 

Being a guileless soldier, not very deeply versed 
in Oriental subterfuges, I put in a good word for 
him to the head of the Police. But that official was 
adamant. He knew the Oriental, and he knew his 
business. He added in English : 

" Very sorry, but I must obey orders. After all 
this fuss I shall be exceedingly surprised if there is 
not something very important concealed about his 
person." 

As I could do no more, I took my leave, first hand- 
ing over to my late charge a new and gorgeous and un- 
exceptionable set of buttons, procured by telegram ; 
at the same time bidding him be of good cheer, and 
wishing him better fortune in the future. 

That evening the Police Officer came to me, 
grinning broadly. 

" I told you so. I knew all that fuss meant some- 
thing. We found nearly £20,000 worth on him, in 
money and stones, besides some most important 
papers ! " 

It had not been therefore entirely native modesty, 
or even piety, that made the close proximity of a 
British bayonet so unwelcome. Nor apparently was 
it sheer love of warmth that made our prisoner wear 
a thick coat on an Indian June day. 



It was during this campaign that I was for a 
short, and on the whole inglorious, period a War 



134 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

Correspondent, and to no less a paper than The 
Times. On one occasion, however, I was lucky 
enough to do that paper a good turn. 

It was during the storming of the Malakand Pass, 
and Sir Robert Low, on whose staff I was serving, 
found that he had used up all his reserves and the 
Pass was not yet taken. He therefore told me to 
hop on to my horse, and ride back nine miles to 
Dargai, to order up another regiment. There I 
found General Gatacre and his Brigade, and gave 
Sir Robert Low's order. In the course of the day 
my horse had been shot through the foreleg, and I 
was looking round for another horse to take me back 
when I noticed some British soldiers putting up a 
telegraph post. 

'' Hullo ! What are you doing ? " 

" Just putting up the head of the wire, sir," re- 
plied the man. An inspiration struck the temporary 
War Correspondent. 

" Will you take a telegram, a long one for the 
Press ? " 

" Yes, sir, certainly ; the wire is quite free at 
present." 

So whilst an Orderly searched for a fresh horse, 
the temporary War Correspondent sat down and 
wrote a brief account of the storming of the Malakand 
up to the time he had left the scene. This telegram 
naturally got home hours before other correspond- 
ents' telegrams ; indeed, The Times was the only 
paper that had an account of the battle next morn- 
ing. More curious still, the first intimation the 
Viceroy or the Commander-in-Chief at Simla received 
of the battle was via London. 

This was an undeserved but lucky chance, and 
The Times was duly pleased. But luck turns, and 
so it did next time. A long account about the battle 
on the Panjkora River, where The Guides were cut 
off and made such a splendid fight of it, took thir- 



ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER 135 

teen days getting home, because for twelve of those 
it had lain peacefully in the pocket of a telegraph 
orderly. 



After the trip to India with Sher Afzul I returned 
to headquarters, and there found my tent standing, 
and everything as I had left it. My Indian servant 
came forth beaming to meet me. 

*' Hullo ! Luckoo, how goes it ? " 

" Very well. Sahib ; all is well. Save only your 
Honour's money, which I have had the misfortune 
to lose." 

" Lost my money, you scoundrel ; what do you 
mean ? I left ninety rupees with you." 

" Without doubt. Sahib, you did ; but, owing to 
misfortune, I have lost it all in gambling. This is a 
very shameful fact, and 1 place dust on my head in 
obeisance. Nevertheless let not the Lord be angry, 
he shall cut it from my pay to the last coin. 

" Tea is now ready," and he waived the matter 
aside. 

On the camp table, possibly as a peace-offering, 
reposed an important -looking cake. This, with 
much guile and some bribery, he had induced a 
friendly cook to make, asking that suitable words 
might be inscribed on it in pink sugar. The cook 
was a Christian, and scratched his head a good deal 
over a suitable inscription. Finally, after consult- 
ing his Bible and taking into consideration the 
general situation, it occurred to him that he could 
not do better than 

*' Prepare to meet thy God." 

Possibly that cook had no sense of humour. 

But apart from campaigns, there is much march- 
ing to and fro in India in the ordinary course of 



136 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

relief. It is roughly a thousand miles from Lucknow 
to Peshawar. A perfectly straight road, running 
through lines of trees for about one thousand miles, 
though here and there are breaks in the trees which 
last for a few yards, or a few miles. But to all in- 
tents and purposes it is an avenue a thousand miles 
long. The avenue does not, however, commence at 
Lucknow, it has already run five hundred miles or 
so from Calcutta. 

Along this Grand Trunk Road, as it is called, 
yearly march north-west or south-east troops 
moving in relief from cantonment to cantonment. 

Formerly regiments often moved by route march 
the whole way from Calcutta to Peshawar, and such 
minor marches as from Peshawar to Lucknow, or 
from Jhansi to Rawal Pindi, were of frequent occur- 
rence. These lengthy marches were on the whole 
very pleasant, except perhaps on the days when the 
subaltern's turn came round to carry the Colours. 
It is a great honour to carry the Colours, especially 
in a battle ; but to be strictly truthful, they are 
exceedingly heavy, especially the King's Colour. 
And to march with them fifteen miles in a hot sun, 
along a very dusty road, in the middle of eight 
hundred soldiers, all rather hot too, is a somewhat 
exhausting operation. All subalterns in their turn 
share in this honour, and we used to look days 
ahead, and calculate whether we should fall in for 
a long march or a short one. 

The average march is twelve miles, but sometimes 
it is fourteen or fifteen, and sometimes only ten or 
eleven. Those extra few miles make a lot of differ- 
ence when carrying the Colours. 

Soldiers are early birds in India, so as to get the 
march over before the day stokes up, for even in the 
coldest weather there is a great rise of temperature 
between midday and three o'clock. Reveille usually 
would sound an hour before dawn, and by dawn the 



ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER 137 

camp had been struck, the baggage loaded up, and 
the regiment formed up ready to start. Then the 
band broke forth into " A Life on the Ocean Wave," 
or other appropriate effort, and off we went. Each 
company by roster led the regiment, for it is easier 
marching at the head of a regiment than at the tail, 
as all soldiers know. 

After each hour's march a halt of five minutes was 
made ; and half-way through the march we came to 
" Coffee House." Not, be it observed, a Coffee House 
or the Coffee House, but plain " Coffee House." This 
is one of those shibboleths in the soldier's language 
which, doubtless, had some obscure original connec- 
tion with coffee, " Coffee House " was the roadside 
spot to which breakfast had been sent on the night 
before. Tea was there, cocoa there might be, whisky 
and soda certainly gleamed in the back shades, beer 
was obtainable, but coffee was conspicuous by its 
absence. 

These were very pleasant alfresco breakfasts ; a 
steaming hot stew, poached eggs, cold hunter's beef. 
" Iron istew," " Unda-poach," and " Hunter," ac- 
cording to the Eastern potentate who ministered to 
our wants. 

During the half-hour allowed for thus unbending 
from the military yoke, all our baggage streamed 
past us, to be met on arrival at the next camp by the 
Quartermaster and Camp Colour party, who had 
made a yet earlier start. Thus, when the regiment 
arrived it found the camp marked out, the baggage 
all up and ready to be unloaded. The pitching and 
striking of a camp was in those days a matter of some 
little ceremony. All tents were spread on the ground 
in their exact places, whilst the men stood by. A 
single note of the bugle rang out, and, as if by magic, 
a camp of mathematical exactness stood pitched. 
It disappeared in a similarly magic manner at the 
blast of a bugle next morning. 



138 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

A march would be over, and all snug in camp by 
lunch time. Then those who had guns might sally 
forth to feed the pot with such game as could be 
found ; usually partridges, quail, duck, snipe, or 
wild pigeon. Whilst one or two, taking service 
rifles, might get a little useful exercise in stalking a 
black buck or ravine deer. Sometimes, if there were 
pig about, three or four would make up a party and 
go out pig-sticking. 

After an early dinner there would be, as likely as 
not, a big camp fire ; songs and stories, pipes and 
grog. And so early to bed, for there was the early 
worm again to be caught before dawn. On the way 
sometimes great cantonments were passed, and here 
old comrades were to be met ; and regiments again 
encountered alongside which we had lain years 
before at the Curragh, or Aldershot, or had fought 
alongside of in some old campaign. Great was the 
hospitality of these, and many the friendly matches 
of cricket or polo played with them as we passed 
along. There was no soldier football or hockey in 
those days. 

After a month or six weeks these marches un- 
doubtedly grew stale. The same straight and end- 
less dusty road before us, the same old halts, the 
same old camp ; till at length we began to count the 
marches left, and eagerly to tick off one more daily 
trudge. But at last the goal is in sight, the last 
march near its end. And there, as a sign and token, 
by the roadside stands our new General and his Staff. 
There too are the Officers deputed by each of the 
regiments, and batteries, in garrison to meet and 
welcome us, and with them all their bands. Led by 
the General, and the bands playing in turn, we finish 
our last march ; putting, be assured, a little extra 
spring and swagger into it ; just to show that a little 
matter of a thousand miles or so is nothing to the 
old Lily Whites. 



ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER 139 

With Cavalry and Artillery these long marches are 
made on similar lines, but each march is sooner ac- 
complished, though there is more to do for the 
Cavalry or Artillery soldier, both before and after 
the march. A Cavalry regiment will trot and walk 
a march in half the time it will take an Infantry regi- 
ment to cover the same distance. But before start- 
ing, besides striking his tents and packing his own 
and his horse's kit, the Cavalry or Artillery man has 
to give his horse his morning feed, a rub down and 
polish over, and to saddle and harness up. So also, 
when the Cavalry and Artillery arrive at the new 
camp, they have to water and feed their horses, 
groom them, and make them comfortable, before 
they can begin thinking of pitching their camp or 
getting their own food. And after a hasty snack, 
there are " stables " and cleaning up of saddlery and 
harness. 

Sometimes regiments are called upon to make 
forced marches, and this is where the grit and stam- 
ina and discipline of a regiment comes out. Some 
of these marches are historic, such as that of The 
Guides to Delhi in the Mutiny, when they covered, 
horse and foot, a distance of 580 miles in 20 J march- 
ing days, an average of about 27 miles a day, " at 
the hottest time of year through the hottest region 
on earth." But often the most noble marches have 
been made unheard of, and unsung. 



It is not only, however, during campaigns, or when 
marching in relief, that adventures befall one in the 
land of too much perpetual sunshine. 

One day the Padre, the Sapper Officer, and a 
native clerk, were driving up the Frontier road in 
a tonga. The road is long and weary, and at every 
six or eight miles comes a change of ponies, and a 
short respite from the tortures of the way. 



140 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

The Padre had his seat beside the driver in front, 
and the Sapper sat with the clerk, back to back with 
him, and looking astern. As they were leaving one 
of the stages, after changing ponies, the Padre in 
front noticed that a man tried to jump on to the step, 
but missed his foothold and fell on the road. Think- 
ing it was the syce, who thus often jumps on at the 
last moment, he expected the driver to stop ; but 
that official, apparently not having noticed the in- 
cident, was driving on. Looking back the Padre 
saw the man pick himself up and commence run- 
ning after the tonga. He then thought that the 
man must be a ganger or workman on the road, who 
wanted to make some petition. So he told the driver 
to stop, and wait for him to come up. 

As the running man came close, however, he sud- 
denly whipped out a large knife and went straight 
for the Sapper, who occupied one of the back seats. 
This Officer at once reached for his revolver, it being 
an order for all to go armed on this road ; but 
before he could get at it, the assassin was on him. 
On the spur of the moment, with the instinct of self- 
preservation, and to gain time to get out his revolver, 
the Officer suddenly kicked out, and caught the 
assailant under the chin with his heavy boot. This 
sturdy rebuff knocked the ghazi over backwards ; 
and the native clerk, who was sitting beside the 
Officer, tumbled out, and falling straight on to the 
fanatic, pinned him to the ground. 

Both Officers had now extricated themselves from 
the tonga, and running up to the struggling pair, 
shouted to the clerk : 

" All right, hold on ; we have got him now." 

And so they had, for they easily overpowered the 
fanatic ; but the clerk was dead, stabbed through 
the heart. 

This was one of the hired assassins whom the 
Mullah Powindah, a fanatical Mohammedan priest 



ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER 141 

of great local influence, used to send across the 
British border to murder British Officers. Unfor- 
tunately for his propaganda, on this occasion a native 
and co-religionist was the victim. 

At one period, only a few years ago, this priestly 
ruffian had no less than thirty-four parties out, 
singly, or by twos and threes, watching their chances 
on the road, in cantonments, at fairs, on railway 
platforms, or wherever occasion offered, to kill a 
British Officer unawares. The Mullah himself was 
a fugitive from justice, and an outlaw ; for whilst 
in a British prison serving a sentence for some grave 
offence, he murdered his jailer and escaped across 
the border. 

There are countless stories of these fanatical en- 
deavours, and here is another. 

It was a hot Sunday night in one of the Frontier 
stations, and a lady and two Officers were sitting at 
dinner. It was a dull dinner, tough and tasteless 
and short of vegetables, for nothing will keep, and 
nothing will grow, at this time of year in that fierce 
desert. But at last it came to its languid conclusion, 
the servants withdrew, and the lady went across the 
hall to the drawing-room. Both the drawing-room 
and the dining-room gave out on to the same veran- 
da, and from these two doors bright shafts of light 
fell across the veranda, leaving the rest in inky 
darkness. The lady sank listlessly into a chair 
under the punkah, facing the veranda, and took 
up a half -read book. She had been reading for some 
minutes when, glancing over the top of her book, 
she saw a white figure crossing the shaft of light. 

At first glance she thought it was a punkah coolie, 
for the clothing was not clean enough for a house 
servant. But why should a punkah coolie be hold- 
ing a long Afghan knife ? Thoughts come quick, 
and action quicker, to those who live amidst the 
ever-present dangers of a Frontier station. She 



142 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

jumped up immediately, and dashing across the hall 
to the dining-room, burst in on the two Officers. 

" There is a man with a knife on the veranda ; 
he has just passed the drawing-room door coming 
this way." 

Both were in evening clothes, but both had their 
revolvers handy, for several attempts had recently 
been made on Officers' lives, and all went armed at 
night. Seizing these they dashed into the veranda, 
and were at once confronted by a wall of darkness. 
Moving cautiously to right and left they swept the 
veranda, and the lady bringing a light they saw it 
was empty. 

On the opposite side of the road was the Cavalry 
Mess, where I was dining, and one of the Officers ran 
across to ask for assistance, whilst the other roused 
all the servants and searched the compound. Very 
soon patrols of horse and foot were on the move, and 
the whole surroundings carefully searched, whilst 
Cavalry patrols trotted out to stop the roads leading 
to the border. But no suspicious persons were found. 

" A case of overwrought nerves," muttered the 
Doctor. 

** Imagined the whole thing ; or else perhaps it 
was really a punkah coolie, and the knife a stick." 
Such was perhaps the unexpressed thought of many. 
Yet a week afterwards, in the written report of one 
of our spies, occurred the following : — 

" I was to-day talking to a Ghazi who told this 
narrative. Perad venture he spoke the truth, but 
more probably his mouth was full of lies. * I had de- 
termined,' said he, ' to kill a Sahib, by the grace of 
God, and thus gain a place in Paradise. But this is 
a difficult undertaking, for the Sahibs are very brave 
and also closely guarded, so that even when they are 
asleep their men watch over them. And every road 
is guarded by armed soldiers who prowl about 
quietly, and are not like fixed sentries. However, 



ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER 143 

by the help of God and by choosing dark nights, and 
avoiding the roads, I made a plan. I worked from 
garden to garden, for each house stands alone in a 
large garden, and thus spied out the land without 
detection. 

** * I noticed too that it is the custom of the Sahibs 
to have their evening meal about eight or nine o'clock, 
and in some houses only one or two sat down to- 
gether, whilst at others nine or ten. So I chose a 
house where only one or two sat down, and where 
there was a very large garden, and bushes for con- 
cealment close to the house. There I sat down 
silently and watched the Sahibs eat their dinner. 
There were two Sahibs and one Mem-Sahib. At 
first there were a good many servants about, but 
after a time these left the room, and the Mem-Sahib 
also got up, and went out, I could not see where. 

" ' Then I said, " God willing, now my time has 
come. I will kill one or both of the Sahibs whilst 
they sit unarmed." So I drew my sword, and 
quickly crossing the path, entered the veranda. 
There was no one there. Barefooted I crept noise- 
lessly along to where a bright light came from a door. 
I thought it was another door of the same room the 
Sahibs were in, but when I cautiously peeped, I saw 
only a Mem-Sahib reading a book. This was un- 
fortunate, for no Ghazi slays a woman, yet I had to 
cross the light to reach the Sahibs, for a punkah 
coolie made approach from the other side difficult. 
Waiting a second I slipped quietly across, but the 
woman saw me — may she perish childless ! — and very 
quickly warned the Sahibs. So I fled, and escaped 
easily owing to the darkness, but I shall try again 
before long, so that I may fulfil my vow.' " 

But he never did, for his turn came first — a '303 
through the head. 

Another happy escape occurred to an Officer at a 
railway station on the Frontier. It was about four 



144 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

o'clock in the afternoon, and he was waiting for his 
train to start ; meanwhile passing the time by look- 
ing through the literature on the bookstall. Seeing 
him thus absorbed with his back turned, one of 
these fanatical assassins who was out for a short road 
to Paradise by killing a British Officer, thought 
that this was his chance. Working therefore quietly 
and unostentatiously through the mixed throng on 
the platform, he got close to his prey. 

Then suddenly whipping out a pistol he pressed 
it against the back of the Officer's neck and pulled 
the trigger ! By the merciful intervention of Provi- 
dence the pistol missed fire, and the Officer escaped ! 
The would-be assassin was at once seized, tried that 
afternoon, and by eight o'clock next morning was 
hanging as high as Haman. Such is swift justice on 
the Frontier, a prompt and effective method of 
dealing with outrages of all sorts ; a method which 
might with great advantage be introduced into other 
parts of India when the necessities of the situation 
are such as to demand straight justice. 

It is curious how little accidents or irregularities 
may save a man's life. On the other hand, how a 
trivial matter, such as stopping to light a pipe, may 
end his career. Mohammedans say it is Kismet, 
and fatalists say it is Fate, whilst others say it is 
Providence. You must take your choice, but any- 
way here are a couple of cases out of many. 

Duty took the writer to Sheikh-Budin, a little 
station perched on a lofty rock on a spur which runs 
from the Suleiman range. It is close to the Mahsud- 
Waziri border, and during certain years has been 
openly threatened by raiding gangs. We drove 
thirty-six miles one blazing evening to Pezu, which 
is supposed to be the hottest place on earth ; stayed 
there the night, and preparations were made for 
the onward journey to commence in the cool of 
morning at 6 a.m. The distance up the hill is four- 



ON THE INDIAN FRONTIER 145 

teen miles, and it is generally negotiated by riding 
a mule. 

The night at Pezu, however, was poisonously hot, 
and every sort of stinging beast swarmed around. 
Sleep was impossible, and the tired traveller merely 
tossed about and waited for dawn. Directly it was 
light enough I got up, put on my clothes, ordered my 
mule, and started off, telling the escort and baggage 
to follow on as soon as they were ready. I rode 
through without adventure, and remember hugely 
enjoying a cold drink on the Club veranda, and 
then sleeping like a log for four hours. 

It was a week later that we learnt that a small 
gang of Mahsuds had planned to waylay and shoot 
me that very morning. But, thanks to the hot night 
and the mosquitoes, I had passed before they ex- 
pected me. And shortly after the daily pickets and 
patrols came out, and they escaped into hiding. 

A friend of mine on the same road had an almost 
similar experience, only he overslept himself, so much 
so that he decided to wait, and go up in the even- 
ing. Thus also he escaped another gang, which was 
out after him. 

There was grave suspicion against the Dak Bun- 
galow Khansama at Pezu, of being in league with 
these gangs. Otherwise it was not apparent how 
they got to know when Officers were travelling. 
However, it could never be quite brought home to 
him, and he grew richer and fatter year by year, till 
in due course he retired and settled on his estate. 
Unfortunately he chose the site for the rich and re- 
poseful afternoon of life rather too close to the 
border, and his quondam friends. These, knowing 
his wealth, and shrewdly suspecting that he sat and 
slept on a good portion of it, made a midnight raid 
on his house, and were under the painful necessity 
of shooting him dead before they eased him of his 
ill-gotten gains. 



146 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

So perish the unrighteous — sometimes. 

Stopping to light a pipe saved the Hfe of another 
officer. He was walking down the Gomal Pass with 
an escort. These small escorts generally move with 
two men in front, then an interval of from one 
hundred to two hundred yards ; then two more 
men, then another interval. Next comes the main 
body of the escort, behind that pairs of men at 
intervals as a rearguard. The officer was walking 
with the second pair of men from the front, and as 
he went started lighting a pipe. The match went 
out, and so did another, and another, before he got 
a light. Meanwhile both the first pair of soldiers, 
and the second pair, had disappeared round a spur 
which here ran into the Gomal river. Owing to the 
roar of the river not a sound was heard, but when 
the officer and the main body rounded the corner, 
they found that the first pair of soldiers had been 
shot dead ; one of the second pair was also shot dead, 
and his companion badly wounded. If the officer 
had not stopped to light his pipe he would have 
been with the second pair, and almost certainly 
killed. 

There is no lack of excitement on the North- West 
Frontier of India. 



CHAPTER X 

THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR 

Germany's Reward — A Gift from Spain — The War in the Philippines 
— -On a Spanish Steamer — Running the Blockade — Iloilo — 
A Grandee of Spain— His Modest Price — The British Consul — 
Following the American Fleet to Manila — The Battle of Cavite 
— The Assembly of Neutral Fleets — Admiral Dewey — On the 
Olympia — German Bluster — The Irene — More Bluster — The 
Way to Deal with Germans — American and English Camaraderie 
— Sir Edward Chichester — A British Sailor All Over — The 
Bombardment of Manila — Shocked Teutons — An Old Fort — 
Gunnery loo Years Ago and Now — Two Debts — The American 
Regulars — Discipline—" Alf " — A Visit to Aguinaldo — A 
Spanish Picquet — Their Little Joke 

THOUGH this war took place nearly twenty 
years ago, a good deal of light has fallen 
recently on certain side issues connected 
with it. At the time most people looked on it as 
merely an accidental quarrel between America and 
Spain, which had something to do with Cuba. The 
rights and wrongs of the quarrel may have been, 
and probably were what they seemed, but it is 
curious to recall the fact now that the chief bene- 
ficiary, and that without firing a shot, was Germany. 
We who were on the spot were somewhat puzzled 
at the attitude taken up by Germany. She had 
very slender ties with Spain, and had probably 
never given her a thought before. On the other 
hand, there was a very big German population in 
America and, as the Great War has since shown, 
one passionately attached to the Fatherland. The 
truculence of the Germans, and especially of the 
German Fleet, rather amused us than otherwise ; it 
was so very nouveau riche, so vulgarly blatant. As 

147 



148 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

we have since discovered, this was to impress other 
neutrals, especially the British, an effort which 
signally failed. It was at the same time intended 
to impress the Spaniards with a feeling of gratitude. 
Here they were more successful, and as a result, 
whether from gratitude or pressure, it need not now 
be enquired, they received a handsome guerdon. 
The Caroline Islands were ceded by Spain to 
Germany. The whole incident was part of the 
German push for territorial acquisition, the raising 
of German prestige in the East, and incidentally the 
formation of coaling stations whence cruiser war- 
fare could be waged on an enemy shipping, and 
especially on British. 

Having, by the sweat of some years, accumulated 
three or four months' leave, the inspiration came 
that this period might be usefully and profitably 
employed in taking part in the Spanish-American 
War which was being waged in the Philippines. 
Equipped therefore with credentials for both bel- 
ligerents, which it was not intended to use except 
in case of necessity, we set forth. When one is a 
recognised military attache with either side, one is 
apt to be hunted and herded about under the cloak 
of courtesy and kindness, so that one sees little, or 
nothing, of the War. This was apparently the 
experience of officers in the Russo-Japanese War. 
So we went as plain travellers, and to heighten the 
delusion went en famille. The papers of recom- 
mendation and identification were kept in reserve. 
Just to avoid being hanged, or shot, by some hasty 
or impetuous person. 

At Singapore we took ship in a small fast Spanish 
steamer, which, brimful of contraband, was going 
to run the blockade of the American Fleet, and land 
her stores at Iloilo, one of the main islands of the 
Philippine group. Before we started the American 
Consul at Singapore raised an objection to the ship 



THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR 149 

and her cargo ; and we had to lie by for a couple 
of days whilst the whole ship was unloaded, and 
then loaded up quickly again, with apparently 
precisely the same cargo. Then we slipped off. 

Of course we expected some excitement on the 
way, for the American Consul had naturally noti- 
fied the American Fleet. But our skipper took us 
by devious ways, and hid about behind islands, 
and other places of concealment ; and finally 
steamed safely into Iloilo harbour without sighting 
any of the enemy's cruisers. Round Iloilo a good 
deal of fighting was going on, but not of a very 
important or sanguinary nature. The chief centre of 
interest was up Manila way, so we determined to 
go there. To this end we craved an interview with 
a very magnificent person, a Hidalgo or Grandee of 
Spain at the least, but temporarily so far debasing 
himself as to be holding the menial post of Governor 
of the Island. 

To him, through an interpreter, was preferred our 
request. It was a mercy he did not blow up ! 
Never was seen anyone so outraged, and so near an 
untimely end, from wrathful apoplexy. A very 
hot day too. The apoplectic fit translated into 
language, and thence into English, read : 

" Assuredly this Englishman is somewhat more 
mad than all the rest of his nation. He must needs 
leave a comfortable home, and come to this god- 
forsaken hole, in the middle of a war. And, mark 
you, brings his wife with him ! Was there ever such 
insanity ? " (Great shrugging of shoulders and spread- 
ing of hands.) " But this is not all. Having learnt 
all our secrets and modes of defence, he now wishes 
to go over and betray us to the accursed Americans. 
Great God ! and the Blessed Virgin ! " 

We let him run on for quite a long time, and then 
made our apologies for so foolish a request, and 
retired. 



150 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

On the way down the street the interpreter 
enquired insinuatingly : 

" How much present master will give ? " 

** Present ? How much ? Great Heavens ! Bribe 
that great and good man, that magnificent patriot, 
that gorgeous hidalgo, that priceless prince ! Per- 
chance we misheard you, friend Sancho Panzo ; be 
kind enough to repeat that remark." 

" I only saying, Governor wanting present from 
English gentleman, and then English gentleman 
going quickly to Manila," replied Sancho. 

" If you are speaking words of truth, my friend, 
what in your estimation would be a suitable present 
to make to His Excellency ? I should be sorry to 
insult him with too small a libation, nor, on the 
other hand, do I wish to spoil the market." 

" Fifty rupees is plenty, Sar." 

Fifty rupees ! That is to say, three pounds six 
shillings and eightpence. It seemed a very moderate 
price for a Governor, a Grandee of Spain, or even 
a Hidalgo, and we prepared to spend it royally. 

But we were saved even this modest outlay, for 
the British Consul, hearing that there were English 
people about, came to see us ; and by a great and 
glorious piece of good fortune he proved to be a 
brother of our own regimental doctor. From that 
time forth our difficulties disappeared ; and we 
shortly found ourselves on a small coasting steamer, 
which, directly she got to sea, discreetly hoisted the 
British flag, steaming in hot pursuit of Admiral 
Dewey's fleet. When we reached the vicinity of 
Manila Bay we heard the fleet had gone in, and 
that so far as anj^one knew there were no mines, 
floating or otherwise ; and no sunken ships in the 
fairway. So our little cockleshell made bold to 
enter. 

The entrance to the Bay is quite narrow, and a 
large Island, named Corregidor, divides even that 




AT.MIKM. UKUKV, COMMANDER OF THE AMERICAN IH.EET 
AT THE NAVAL BATTLE OF CAVm':, MAY I, I ^9^ 



THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR 151 

restricted channel. Both on Corregidor and on the 
mainland, were forts heavily armed. There was 
a half moon, and as the fleet crept slowly 
through in single file, there must have been many 
an anxious moment on the leading ship. But not 
a cat stirred, and the fleet passed through safely. 
As day strengthened, the Spanish Fleet was to be 
seen at anchor away to the south-east towards 
Cavite. Eleven ships in all. How they went to 
the bottom, at their anchorage, and with only a 
feeble show of resistance, is a matter of history. 

Everyone now began to send squadrons to Manila 
Bay, just to demonstrate against each other ; to 
brag and bluster, and pretend they had vital in- 
terests of some sort. England only was unrepre- 
sented, except by a little 2nd class cruiser, the 
Bonaventure, under Sir Edward Chichester. Yet, 
as Admiral Dewey said, " that little cruiser saved 
a European War in this Bay." 

Admiral Dewey very courteously invited us on 
board his flagship and sent his pinnace to fetch us. 
A most pleasant, courteous host of great modesty 
and bearing. Wearing a moustache, to British eyes 
he looked more like a General than an Admiral, such 
is the effect of hirsute environment. The Admiral's 
cabin was in war trim — that is to say, dismantled 
and all woodwork removed, and was mostly occu- 
pied by a large gun. He told us how he had fought 
the battle of Cavite, and from where we stood on the 
decks of the Olympia the Spanish ships were visible 
quite close, mostly sunk in shallow water. On the 
side of the Olympia was painted a white circle, 
showing where the only shot had hit her. It was 
probably a light shell from a field battery on shore, 
for it had hardly made a dent. We were con- 
gratulating Admiral Dewey on his victory, and 
in chaff condoled with him for not belonging to a 
monarchy, because then he might have received 



152 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

a peerage, as did Admiral Beauchamp. With 
great simplicity the Admiral waived the peerage 
aside. 

" Oh ! but the people at home are very kind and 
good to me. Look at all these little presents." 

The little presents consisted of nothing more 
than could be bought with a few shillings or a few 
pence. But the kind-hearted old sailor appreciated 
them just as much as if they had been made of gold 
and silver, and set with precious stones. Later he 
was to receive more substantial proofs of the grati- 
tude of his fellow-citizens. 

The first international incident occurred when 
the German Fleet came sailing in with neither a 
" with-your-leave " nor " by-your-leave." This did 
not seem to Admiral Dewey a very correct procedure 
in a blockaded port ; but, as he said, he was not 
very well up in the etiquette of the ocean, so he 
semaphored across to his friend. Sir Edward Chiches- 
ter, for advice. Sir Edward, a stout old sailor of 
the best old stock, immediately replied that un- 
doubtedly the German Fleet had no right to be 
there, except by courtesy of the blockading fleet. 
The Germans had no sea manners, he added. 

" What ought I to do ? " asked Admiral Dewey. 

" Fire across his bows," replied Sir Edward 
Chichester with great bluntness. 

In the course of two minutes whizz — z — z, bang, 
went a shot across the German's bows, and in an 
incredibly short space of time her fleet anchored 
hastily. Next was seen a steam pinnace, evidently 
in a great hurry, pushing off from the German 
Admiral's flagship, and scurrying towards the 
Olympia. In the pinnace were seated some very 
angry Germans. They were escorted courteously 
on board the Olympia, simply bursting with wrath, 
and with their feathers flying anyhow. 

" Do you know, sir," exclaimed the infuriated 



THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR 153 

German emissary, " that this action of yours might 
entail war with the great German Empire ? " 

'' I am perfectly aware of the fact," replied 
Admiral Dewey with great coolness and courtesy. 
Then hospitably invited his guests to assuage their 
wrath with a cocktail, or a mint julep. 

But the German was not to be pacified with a 
cocktail, or even with a mint julep, and flounced 
himself off to report the matter to Wilhelm II. 

" And do you know," said Admiral Dewey to us, 
" I'd never have risked it, if it hadn't been for that 
little British cruiser representing the British Fleet 
at my back." 

The next incident was equally inflammatory. 
A few Spaniards remained on a small island, just 
off the town of Manila, and their surrender only 
being a matter of time and terms, the Americans 
did not trouble much about them. One morning, 
however, it was noticed that a German cruiser, the 
Irene, had shifted her berth, and was now anchored 
down alongside this island, as a sort of moral sup- 
port to the Spaniards, and menace to the Americans. 

" What ought I to do ? " asked Admiral Dewey 
of his friend the English captain. 

*' Do ? " replied Sir Edward. " Why just clear 
two of your battleships for action, and bear down 
on the Irene, and tell her that if she isn't out of that 
in five minutes you'll sink her." 

" And I acted like that," Admiral Dewey remarked 
with great relish. 

" I cleared the Boston and the Raleigh for action, 
and bore down on the Irene, and would you believe 
it, she was in such an all-fired hurry to clear away 
that she slipped her cable ! He is a fine fellow that 
Captain Chichester of yours." 

Sir Edward Chichester, tenth Baronet, was a 
great burly man who looked like a typical English 
squire, and was possessed of most of the best quali- 



154 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

ties of a naval officer. He knew his job from A to 
Z ; he had unbounded behef in the power of the 
British Navy, and looked on with perfectly calm, 
mixed with amused tolerance, at the impassioned 
antics of the " Dagos." He died as a Rear- Admiral 
in 1906, leaving behind the record of a stout sea- 
man, who knew how to act when confronted by 
great responsibilities, where any mistake might 
have had world-wide consequences. 

There was yet one other occasion on which the 
spirit of comradeship between the British and the 
American fleets was shown. Admiral Dewey gave 
the Spaniards up to eleven o'clock on a certain 
morning to surrender the town of Manila ; and if 
not surrendered at that hour and on the date 
settled, he would bombard the town. A lot of busy 
neutrals, led by the Germans, thereupon began 
fussing and fuming around, trying to formulate 
language to express his baseness. This makes 
curious reading nowadays ! Finally, these neutrals 
had a meeting, and, headed by the German Admiral, 
went to interview Sir Edward Chichester with a 
view to ascertaining his views on the subject, and 
further, to enquire what the British intended to do. 
Sir Edward listened to them with great patience 
and affabiUty, and heard unmoved the blood- 
curdling story of the atrocities which the Americans 
were about to commit. With the help of his steward 
he even soothed them with his national drinks. But 
when pressed as to his views and intentions, he 
blandly replied : 

** Those, sirs, are known only to Admiral Dewey 
and myself. Good morning, gentlemen, good morn- 
ing." 

The final touch came when the fatal morn had 
arrived. All foreign fleets were ordered to weigh, 
and clear to the north'ard out of the line of fire, 
before 10 a.m. Each in their turn up-anchored and 



THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR 155 

cleared away ; till last of all, and alone, was left 
H.M.S. Bonaventure. Very slowly, and with great 
deliberation, the Bonaventure, every glass in every 
fleet on her, hauled up her anchor. Dead slow she 
followed the foreign fleets for a short and calculated 
distance ; then slowly turned, and making a wide 
deliberate sweep, came back and anchored alongside 
the American Fleet. Could the highest diplomacy 
do more ? The Americans evidently thought not, 
for as the little Bonaventure passed along, one huge 
cheer went up from every American ship. 

As the appointed hour arrived. Admiral Dewey 
began to get anxious ; he had no wish and probably 
no intention of bombarding the town of Manila, 
but the Spanish flag still flew and there was no sign 
of surrender. So by way of hastening the Spaniards 
a little in their deliberations, he opened fire on an 
old fort which lay some distance outside the town. 
It was then discovered that the Spaniards had raised 
the white flag as directed, but as the wind was blow- 
ing straight away from the fleet, it had not been 
earlier distinguished. 

Examining that old fort afterwards, a curious 
development in the science of gunnery and the 
penetration of shells was observable. In the old 
days, more than a century before, the British had 
attacked that fort with the guns of the day, and the 
marks could clearly be seen. They had just made 
a dent in the wall, crumbled the stone a little, and 
then had fallen back harmless into the ditch. The 
modern shell had not only penetrated the near 
wall, but had crossed the fort and gone clean 
through the far wall. 

As a matter of history, Manila and the Philippine 
Islands, probably according to the strict letter of 
the law, still belong to Great Britain. For at the 
general settling up after the Napoleonic Wars, we 
sold the Philippines to Spain for some small sum of 



156 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

money, £2,500,000 I believe, and that sum has 
never been paid. 

It is much the same with a Portuguese Debt. 
Portugal owes us £8,000,000 for sums advanced 
during the Peninsular War. On April ist of each 
year that debt is solemnly acknowledged to the 
British Government, and as solemnly acknowledged 
and carried to next year. It has thus carried on for 
a century, and it occurred to us soldiers during the 
South African War that the Portuguese might very 
handsomely have wiped off the debt in exchange for 
Delagoa Bay. 

There were a great number of British sailors, and 
especially stokers, in the American Fleet, and these 
put on an extra strong Yankee accent when speak- 
ing to us. One who had a specially strong accent, 
however, privately dropped it when we were alone, 
and told us that he had been at Rugby School, and 
had only recently taken on at Hong Kong " just to 
see a bit of fun." 

On shore there was a very great difference between 
the regulars of the American Army and the Volun- 
teers. The former were very good indeed, very 
smart and well trained, and with the strictest dis- 
cipline. All old soldiers of the best type. The 
Volunteers were mostly hastily raised citizens who 
could just march decently in fours, but to whom 
the word discipline had little meaning. When a 
colonel, a sergeant, and a bugler may be seen sitting 
down to dinner together at an hotel it must be 
difficult, though perhaps not impossible, to keep 
the slender but very strong chain of discipline taut. 
Our own Colonial troops suffered from the same 
trouble at the beginning of the Great War, and per- 
haps is illustrated by a little story I sent home at 
the time, and which was with variations quoted and 
illustrated in several papers. 

A Colonial regiment was about to be inspected 



THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR 157 

by the General, and previously the Colonel did 
earnestly enjoin and beseech his men to turn out 
in a smart and soldier-like manner, and to behave 
as such. And he added : 

" For God's sake, boys, don't call me Alf before 
the General." 



After the occupation of Manila we went to live in 
the town, and had rather a thin time as far as food 
and accommodation went ; and both of us came back 
looking like scarecrows ; at least so our friends told 
us. However, we had not finished yet, for directly 
peace had been made between the Americans and 
the Spaniards, a new war broke out between the 
Americans and the Filippinos, as the Philippine 
Islanders are called. We thought we might as well 
see a little of this new development. One day, 
therefore, Admiral Dewey was asked if it was per- 
missible to go over to the enemy. Somewhat to 
our surprise he raised no difficulties whatever ; he 
merely said : 

" Go, right away, if they'll let you." 
So two of us Englishmen, one of whom could 
speak the language, sallied forth unarmed to try 
their luck. We got out of the American lines with- 
out anyone taking much notice, and then bumped 
into a Filippino picquet, which happily did not 
shoot first and make enquiries afterwards. On the 
contrary, they said : " Are you Americano or 
Inglis ? " The reply was given with great prompti- 
tude and truth, " Inglis." Then a long palaver 
between the Englishmen and the Filippino com- 
mandant, wherein, by the courtesy of one of them, 
the other was described as a British Officer of com- 
manding rank and merit, who was so impressed 
with the military genius of Aguinaldo, the insurgent 
leader, that he wished to lay the tribute of his 



158 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

admiration at his feet, and had travelled all the 
way from India to do so. They possibly concluded 
he had come to place his sword and military genius 
at their service, and they were consequently most 
civil to the adventurers. 

Henceforth no obstacles were placed in our wa}^ 
and we were sent by train, without even the formality 
of taking tickets, to Malolos, where lay Aguinaldo's 
headquarters. No guard was placed on us, though 
a soldier or two kept an eye on the carriage at each 
station. At Malolos we were received with every 
courtesy, and were introduced to Aguinaldo. A 
young half-breed of twenty-nine, who for years 
had headed the rebellion against the Spaniards, 
and frequently defeated them ; and who was now 
trying to expel the Americans from the Island. 
The Englishmen were allowed to roam about per- 
fectly freely, and no one took much notice of them, 
except to be exceedingly civil. Perhaps one re- 
mark made by Aguinaldo may account in part, or 
wholly, for this liberal treatment. One day in con- 
versation he said : "I would surrender to the 
British to-morrow, and hand over the Government 
of these Islands to them, for I have been to Singa- 
pore and Hong Kong and seen how good and clean 
their Government is. They know how to govern 
Asiatics, but I would not come under the Spaniards, 
and won't submit to the Americanos." 

Nor did he, though after years of guerilla warfare 
he was captured through a ruse by the Americans, 
and deported to the United States on a liberal 
pension. 

One more story may perhaps be told about the 
Philippine War. On a certain day, by way of im- 
proving their military minds, two Englishmen were 
strolling round the Spanish outpost line, and 
happened to chance across a small picquet, consist- 
ing of a Sergeant and three men. At the moment 



THE SPANISH-AMERICAN WAR 159 

of their arrival the men were having their midday 
meal, to wash which down the sergeant was issuing 
to each a ration of red wine. He very hospitably 
offered the Englishmen a drink, which was gladly 
accepted ; though as it was a very hot day they 
asked that a little water might be added. This was 
evidently considered a capital joke, for all four 
burst into roars of laughter. 

*' Wherefore this merriment ? " asked the English- 
men in some bewilderment. 

" Pardon us, sir," said the Sergeant, " but I will ex- 
plain. That wine is a very good wine, and comes from 
Barcelona. It starts off in large casks addressed 
to the Adjutant-General. Out of each cask the 
Adjutant-General makes two, and hands it on to 
our Colonel. Our Colonel out of these two diluted 
casks makes three. Next the Company Commander 
has to make his profit, and I also have to make mine. 
So you see, sir, there is not much need to add any 
more water ! No doubt it is better thus in a warm 
climate ! "'■ 

The three privates listened with broad grins to 
this recital. One could not help picturing the look 
of horror and indignation which would have come 
over the face of Thomas Atkins and Jack Tar if he 
had heard of similar liberties being taken with his 
liquor. 

* The Philip phi es and Round About, by Major G. K. Younghusband. 



CHAPTER XI 

SOME ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 

Sir Hector MacDonald — Stopped by Telegram — Success after many 
Endeavours — Arrival in England— Lord George Hamilton — Sir 
Dighton ProbjTi Deus ex machina — Lord Scarbrough — His Un- 
selfish Patriotism — The 3rd Imperial Yeomanry — Yorkshire and 
Nottinghamshire Combine — The Best of Regiments — Trekking 
with Lord Methuen — In Pursuit of De Wet — Lindley — A Tight 
Corner — Lord Chesham's Brigade — Capture of Villebois de 
Mareuil's Commando — Surprising a Boer Commando — Charging 
a Kopje — The Two Yeomen — A Wound — The Man Fours — 
Lady Galway's Knife — ^Seventeen Pieces in him and yet Lived — 
Sixteen Best Girls — Boer Women — The Comely Daughter — 
And the Persuasive Subaltern — A Rider Follows us — The Comely 
Daughter Again — Her Information — Her Night March Tied to 
the Interpreter — The Surprisers Surprised — The Bird Flown — 
The Revenge of Jealousy — We Picket a Farm— Remarkably 
Handsome Daughters — The Blood's Attentions — Also the 
Major's — -The Intercepted Letter — A Reply that Got Tlirough — 
Bloodstained Clothes and Frills — A Palatial Farm — We Sit 
Heavily On It — A Tall and Bounteous Female — We Meet 
Again at a Dinner Party 

IT is exceedingly difficult to be allowed to take 
part in some wars, and such was my experi- 
ence with regard to the Boer War. Whilst 
serving on the Staff of Sir Hector MacDonald, at 
Umballa, in the autumn of 1899, a telegram arrived 
appointing Sir Hector to command the Highland 
Brigade in South Africa, in succession to General 
Wauchope, who had been killed in action. The 
telegram added that he might take one Officer with 
him. Sir Hector, with the telegram in his hand, 
asked : 

" Would you care to come ? " 
An answer was almost superfluous, and we set to 
work to sell our goods and pack our kits. 

160 



ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR i6i 

At the very last moment, at the railway station, 
came a telegram : 

" Major Younghusband is not to go." 

So that famous fellow and old friend, Watty Ross, 
took the vacant place, and he and Sir Hector departed 
for South Africa. 

Wearily wending my way back to the hotel, I sent 
a wire enquiring why I was not allowed to go. 

The reply came : 

** By Indian Army Regulations, Vol. XXIII, para. 
743 (or thereabouts), an Officer holding a Stafi ap- 
pointment may not volunteer for service." 

To this went the rejoinder : 

** I respectfully beg to be allowed to resign my 
Staff appointment." 

Back came the shuttlecock : 

" By Indian Army Regulations, Vol. XXIV, para. 
1065, you are not allowed to resign a Staff appoint- 
ment." 

The situation clearly required different handling. 
I had had no furlough for nine years, ever since leav- 
ing the Staff College, so the next telegram was 
worded : 

*' Shall be grateful for one year's furlough. Official 
application follows by post." 

On the heels of this went a private wire to every 
single Officer, and there were many, through whom 
the application would pass, asking them most kindly 
to expedite it. 

Next day the welcome wire arrived : 

" Leave sanctioned." 

So off we started for England. 



i62 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

At Port Said a telegram from my father met us : 
" Come on sharp. Appointment awaiting you." 

On we went, therefore, as sharp as the P. and O. 
mail could take us, but on arriving at Charing Cross 
were met by long faces. 

" Very sorry, the Indian Government won't let 
you go to South Africa." 

Clearly the next thing was to tackle the Indian 
Government. This was late Sunday night, but the 
first thing on Monday morning I went and called at 
the India Ofhce on Lord George Hamilton, then 
Secretary of State for India. 

Lord George was exceedingly kind and nice and 
sympathetic, but he said that though Lord Roberts 
himself had applied for fifty Cavalry Officers of the 
Indian Army by name, the Indian Government 
could not spare them. 

This did not look very promising, but it is wise to 
never say die. 

The next step was to Marlborough House to see 
Sir Dighton Probyn. Sir Dighton was an old friend 
of my father, and had always been more than kind 
to me. To him the situation was explained. Here 
was an Officer on a year's furlough, and he might 
just as well be fighting Boers as kicking his heels 
about in London. Sir Dighton fully agreed, and said 
he would do what he could. And he succeeded, 
though, as he told me years afterwards, he had a 
severe tussle with Lord Wolseley, who was then 
Commander-in-Chief. Needless to say, my gratitude 
was unbounded. I accordingly went to South Africa, 
the envied of hundreds of Indian Army Officers. 

When after the Black Week, as it was called, owing 
to some minor reverses in South Africa, it was de- 
cided to raise 10,000 Yeomen for service against the 
Boers, amongst others selected to raise and com- 
mand a regiment was Lord Scarbrough. He ac- 



ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 163 

cepted the honour and responsibihty with much 
diffidence, at the same time giving it as his opinion 
that no one but a professional soldier ought to be 
entrusted with the lives of five hundred of his fellows 
in battle. As a matter of fact, Lord Scarbrough had 
been a regular himself, and had until recently served 
in the 7th Hussars. 

" Quite so," said the War Office, " but there are 
no regular Officers to spare. They are all employed." 

At that exact moment I happened to arrive home 
from India, on a year's leave. Lord Scarbrough 
saw my name in the paper, and at once went to the 
War Office and said : 

*' Well; anyway, here is one spare man." 

So I was appointed to command the regiment, 
and Lord Scarbrough then said : 

*' Will you take me out as second-in-command ? " 

That was as patriotic and noble an act as man 
could perform. It contrasts nicely with the pro- 
fessional parvenu, who will down his best friend to 
what he calls " get on." 

The regiment was the 3rd Imperial Yeomanry, 
and was composed of picked squadrons from the 
Yorkshire Hussars, Yorkshire Dragoons, South Notts 
Hussars, and Sherwood Rangers. 

That was one of the best regiments and the nicest 
lot of officers I have ever commanded. A regiment 
in which, besides Lord Scarbrough, were dear old 
Dick Gascoigne, Beresford-Peirse, the two Birkins, 
Bertie Wilson, Bertie Sheriffe, and 518 other fine 
fellows, was bound to be a good one. 

In writing of the South African War let us eschew 
the big battles ; we have all read about them, and 
let us just trek along with a column, and see what 
adventures we may chance across. 

One day as we were trekking with Lord Methuen, 
a despatch rider arrived from Lord Roberts saying, 
that one of the newly-raised Yeomanry regiments, 



i64 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

the " Millionaires' Own " as it was called, was in 
great straits at Lindley in the Orange River Colony, 
and that we were to do our best to extricate it. We 
were then forty-two miles from Lindley, and setting 
off at once, covered the distance in one trek. But 
alas ! on nearing Lindley we were met with the un- 
fortunate news that the regiment had already been 
captured by greatly superior numbers. 

However, we pushed on to see what we could do, 
and found De Wet with his captives, in full retreat 
towards Bethlehem, through very hilly country. 
Our regiment, the 3rd Imperial Yeomanry, was sent 
in pursuit, and an excessively warm time we had of it. 

A few miles beyond Lindley we came up with 
De Wet's rearguard with two guns, which held us 
off for a time. Then we made a detour round to our 
left, and taking ridge after ridge, found ourselves on 
the flank of the retreating Boers. The Boer force 
was about 3000 strong, and at the point of impact 
we counted on cutting off sixteen wagons, two guns, 
and, we hoped, the prisoners. Just, however, as we 
were turning inwards to make our charge, we sud- 
denly came across a precipice, about twenty-five 
feet drop, down which was apparently no path, and 
the face of which was fully exposed to the Boer fire. 

Our blood was up, and somehow or other thirty- 
six of us scrambled down the sheer wall on foot, and 
had our horses shoo-ed down after us. At the bottom 
was a nullah which gave us welcome shelter for a 
moment's breather ; then mounting our horses we 
formed in single rank with a good interval, and 
issuing from the nullah, charged four hundred yards 
across the open, cut off the convoy and guns, and 
took the kopje beyond. All our captures sneaked 
down into a nullah between us and Lindley, and we 
hoped that we had cut in far enough up to rescue the 
prisoners too. At this moment, however, one of 
them came running back on foot and said : 



ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 165 

" They are all just on there, on carts, not a hundred 
yards beyond where you cut in." 

" Go and tell them to clear. We'll hold on here to 
cover them," we told him. 

The man went, but shortly came back to say they 
had all gone, and just round the corner was a com- 
mando of Boers who had now intervened. 

That being so it was now about time to think of 
ourselves. On top of a forty-two mile march we 
had been fighting all day, we had lost three out of 
four of our squadron-commanders, forty odd men, 
and seventy-two horses, killed or wounded ; and we 
stood at this extreme point, only thirty-six all told, 
in the midst of a perfect hornets' nest of Boers. At 
this moment I was just having a chat with the 
Adjutant on the subject, and he was giving me a 
light from his cigarette, v/hen a bullet tipped the 
Kafir kraal wall we were leaning against, and passed 
between his face and mine, and certainly not three 
inches from either. 

'' Well, unless we want to go home in an ambu- 
lance, we had better be shifting," we both agreed. 

And a nice ticklish job that was ! The way it was 
done was for one half to race back to occupy a kopje 
in rear, and then for the other half to clear out fast, 
so as to get under shelter before the Boers were up 
on the vacated hill. We laid an ambush or two as 
well. That is, we left a stout-hearted pair on the 
rear kopje, whilst the rest galloped away. Up came 
Johnny Boer, and got it in the face. Then quickly 
to horse the pair, and off. 

One infernal fellow, with a yellow cat's skin round 
his hat, had a captured Yeoman with him, whom he 
used as a shield and stalking-horse, pushing him on 
in front, and firing from behind him. A sovereign 
was offered by some sportsman to anyone who would 
shoot the yellow-banded ruffian, and the poor 
Yeoman had an extraordinarily bad time of it 



i66 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

whilst competition for this sovereign was going on. 
At the very last moment, however, we got the yellow 
gent. He was squatting on the ground shooting, 
making the Yeoman stand in front and hold his 
horse. Unfortunately for him he was slightly side- 
ways on to where we were, and we got him through 
the head at 400 yards ; and the Yeoman nipped on 
to the horse, and came in to us. 

Eventually we got out of the fight all right, but 
a bit war-worn. There was one mare, the Sergeant- 
Major's, with seven bullets through her, fourteen 
holes counting in and out. The Sergeant-Major was 
a great burly fellow, but she carried him home all 
right, and only died at her standings that night. 
Brave and gallant charger ! 

We were rather amused at an Orderly who came 
from Lord Chesham, who was commanding the 
Brigade, with a message. He was exceedingly 
heated, and somewhat agitated, when he arrived, 
and exclaimed : 

" My God ! I have come through hell to bring 
this message ! " 

" All right, sonny ; stop here, and have a bit of 
a rest." 

" Not I ! " said he. " Not much, this is worse 
than hell ! Got any answer ? I'm off back to Lord 
Chesham." 



On another occasion, when we were lying at 
Boshoff, a Kafir came in to say that a Boer com- 
mando was resting at a farm about nine miles off. 
So out went the Brigade under Lord Chesham to 
round it up. But when it got there, no signs of 
brother Boer were to be seen. The force was there- 
fore about to turn round and go home, thinking it 
was yet another false scent, when someone noticed 
a few loose ponies grazing. Lord Methuen ordered 



ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 167 

these to be rounded up before marching home, and 
then the fun began ! For the kopje beyond was full 
of the enemy, and suddenly a furious fusillade burst 
out from it. Lord Methuen at once made his dis- 
positions for attack, sending some of the Yeomen 
round to the right, and some to the left, whilst the 
rest went straight in at the centre, and the guns 
played on the crest. 

The Yeomen dashed across about 800 yards of 
open, on foot, stormed the position with fixed 
bayonets, and great gallantry, losing several officers 
and a good many men. But the whole of the enemy 
commando was killed, wounded, or captured. This 
accomplished, what was everybody's surprise to 
find that this was a French commando, under the 
celebrated Villebois de Mareuil, on its way to wreck 
the railway between Cape Colony and Kimberley. 
Villebois de Mareuil was amongst the slain, and 
Lord Methuen ordered his body to be taken in to 
Boshoff, and buried there with full military honours. 
We were all devoted to Lord Methuen. 

There was a curious story connected with Villebois 
de Mareuil's signet ring. It was noticed by several 
people on his finger, and the intention, of course, 
was that it should be buried with him. Some days 
afterwards, however, one of our ofhcers, Colonel 
Lance Rolleston, happened to be in Kimberley, and 
was poking about buying odds and ends, when in a 
sort of jeweller's shop he was offered a signet ring 
for sale. It looked to him singularly like the ring 
Villebois de Mareuil was wearing when killed, so out 
of curiosity he bought it. Enquiries were then made 
regarding the crest of this distinguished French 
family, and this proved to be the crest on the ring. 
It was thus definitely identified as the property of 
the dead French Officer, but how it got out of his 
grave into a pawnshop is a mystery still unsolved. 
After the War a deputation from the regiment, under 



i68 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

Colonel Lance Rolleston, went over to Paris, and 
handed back the ring to the family of Villebois de 
Mareuil, as a token of regard for a brave enemy. 



One more little scrap. We had made an early 
start, and, just as we crested a rise, a sight met our 
eyes which they had long thirsted for. A Boer com- 
mando surprised, and hastily breaking up laager. 
It was some miles away, but in the clear South 
African air looked quite close, especially with field- 
glasses. One could almost hear the men swearing 
as they thrust their bullocks under the yokes. Our 
orders were to go in and " freeze on to them " until 
the other columns could come up. So off we went, 
two weak squadrons only, to freeze on to the re- 
doubtable De Wet with a couple of thousand pretty 
tough birds under his command. We made straight 
for him at a good steady trot, and all the small 
parties he sent out to meet and stay us fell back 
without dismounting or shooting. There was not time. 

At length we reached a particularly forbidding 
line of kopjes, behind which the departing laager lay. 
We had been so long at that war by now that we knew 
almost instinctively exactly what points the Boers 
would be holding. We therefore singled out the most 
prominent kopje, which, if taken, broke his line of 
defence. We were closing up on this, still at a trot, 
and were scarce three hundred yards from it, when 
we espied that well-known and oft-accursed obstacle, 
a barbed wire fence. But by this time we were 
pretty slippy at overcoming that sort of thing ; the 
advance scouts with wire cutters had it down in a 
minute, so that we scarcely had to check. 

Still not a shot or sound from that forbidding 
kopje. Checking the squadrons momentarily to a 
walk, a troop was sent at a gallop round to the left, 
and another round to the right. Then the tornado 



ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 169 

burst. We saw the left-hand troop at once in diffi- 
culties, having struck a bog at the same moment 
that the enemy opened on it, at close range. The 
right troop for one flash we saw against the skyline, 
and then it seemed to meet a blizzard, and withered 
away, and died mostly. They had done their work 
nobly, these two, and now it was up to us, and up 
the slope we went as hard as God would let us ; and 
just at the ridge, and not thirty yards from the 
enemy, we came on a pocket made for us, a piece 
of dead ground just big enough to hold us. In five 
seconds we were off our horses, over the ridge, and 
at them with the bayonet, for we had no swords or 
lances which we could have used on horseback. That 
cleared up that lot. 

But straight ahead was another kopje which com- 
manded ours, and which it was imperative to take, 
so we doubled on and took it ; but the Boers were 
getting thicker and thicker and stronger and stronger, 
and we thinner and thinner and weaker and weaker. 
Before we could dig on further we wanted more men, 
so the Adjutant wrote a note, and a Yeoman was 
sent off with it, whilst we kept his rifle for an Officer 
to use. No signs of more men. So another Yeoman 
was sent with another note. Still no result. Then 
went the Adjutant, and he also disappeared as if the 
earth had swallowed him ; and still no reinforce- 
ments. Then I thought I had better go myself, and 
see what was up. 

As I strolled across the neck between the two 
kopjes I suddenly came across the corpse of a 
Yeoman, and was just thinking, "That accounts for 
it, poor devil," when the corpse's eyes suddenly 
turned towards me. 

" Hullo ! hit, are you ? Badly ? " 

" No, sir, I ain't 'it, but the fire across this neck 
is that awful I thought I'd better wait a bit." He 
was a recruit, and it was his first fight. 



170 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

" Oh ! it isn't so bad as all that ; you come along 
with me and see." 

So on we went, we two, with many a duck and 
bob on the part of the Yeoman ; when lo and 
behold ! we came across a second Yeoman corpse. 
And he, curiously enough, said exactly the same as 
the first. However, we gathered him in, and all 
three went on and talked about Yorkshire, bobbing 
and bowing a good deal on the way. Then one of 
the Yeomen got a bullet through his hat, whilst the 
wire fence alongside got cut in two with a whang by 
another bullet ; and so we gratefully arrived under 
shelter. There I found my friend the Adjutant, and 
hailed him : 

" Hullo ! what became of you ? " 

" Became of me ? Nothing. I have been twenty 
minutes trying to get these blamed led horses round 
the corner, and each time we are met by a hurricane, 
and half a dozen horses down." 

" Never mind the horses, push up all the men you 
can on foot, like a good lad." And up they went. 

Meanwhile I sauntered over to see what the 
machine-gun fellow was up to, as a deadly silence 
reigned from that direction. I understood him to 
say that '' it was too hot " for him, and was just pro- 
ceeding to point out the extreme opposite, when 
suddenly I felt as if someone had kicked me very 
hard on the shin. 

" A splinter of stone on the shin, I think," turning 
to the Adjutant. 

" You may perhaps have a stone on the shin," he 
replied judiciously, " but you are certainly bleeding 
like a bullock in the thigh." 

And so I was ; and a long and troublous story 
that was, which lasted me four years. 

However, I got shelter under a wall, and lit a 
pipe, and carried on as best I could, though I was 
rather immobile for a Cavalry Ofhcer. After some 



ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 171 

time the doctor came and bound me up, and then 
they poked me into a shelf in an Ambulance wagon, 
with about a dozen other wounded, and we were 
carted to a neighbouring farm and there left ; for 
the columns were moving quickly and could not 
carry wounded with them. They couldn't get me 
into the door without hurting me a lot, so they un- 
shipped the window, and poked me in that way, 
right on to a splendid bed, quite clean and with 
brass posts. The men were put into another room 
and along the veranda ; whilst our unwilling hosts, 
a Boer woman with a lot of children, varying from 
eighteen to six, occupied the two remaining rooms. 
The only one who made a fuss was a Boer, not at all 
badly hit, who groaned, and moaned, and cried all 
night ; whilst my men, some pretty badly wounded, 
never uttered a sound. 

There was one man particularly I made enquiries 
after next morning. He had one of those big knives 
which contain every conceivable thing from a cork- 
screw to a pair of scissors, which Lady Galway had 
given to all the men before they started. This he 
carried on a chain attached to his trouser button. 
Just as we were galloping into the Boers this knife 
got adrift from his pocket and was banging his thigh. 
So, as we went, he picked it up, and poked it into the 
top of his trousers. Almost immediately after a 
bullet hit it at about twenty yards' range, and 
carried the whole thing into him, all that was left 
outside being the chain and the hoof-picker. The 
doctor didn't give him till the morning to live. I 
was therefore greatly surprised, as well as pleased, 
to get my batman's report : 

" Well, sir, he says he feels a bit stiff, but he slept 
very well indeed, and feels very hungry ! " 

A month after, when we had all got well enough 
to make a shift, we bribed a Boer with a £^ note to 
get us an ox wagon, and in this we bumped un- 



172 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

easily, by easy stages, forty miles into Vereeniging, 
where we appeared as ghosts from the dead. There 
they put the Rontgen rays on to our friend with the 
knife, and found it split up into no less than seven- 
teen pieces, embedded in him. After the end of the 
war we were staying with Lady Scarborough in 
Yorkshire, and a bazaar was being held at the house 
for the church steeple, or some other charity. My 
job was to beat the big drum outside the fortune- 
teller's tent to attract customers. Amongst others 
attracted was an old woman who looked very hard 
at me, and said : 

" You're Colonel Younghusband, ain't you ? " 

I said I was. 

" My son wants to see you, he's got something for 
you." 

" That's very nice ; tell him to roll up." 

The old woman went off, and shortly returned 
tugging along — Who do you think ? Yeoman Fours, 
the man with the seventeen pieces of a knife in him ! 

" Yes, sir, I've got a photograph of myself with 
them all there. But the doctors got 'em all out ; 
and I've given sixteen of 'em away as souvenirs — 
to girls and that like " (with some bashfulness), 
** but I kep' one for you, sir." 

He had ridden over eighteen miles on a bicycle 
to see me, and was strong and well again, and the 
overseer in some neighbouring works. 



The Boer women hated us with a pure and un- 
alloyed, albeit carefully-concealed, hatred, and only 
once did we come across a case where other feelings 
overruled this passion. We were hot -foot after a 
man named Conyers, who, with a small commando, 
had been giving a good deal of trouble. One day we 
came to a farm where we outspanned for our midday 
halt. There was the old dopper, his old frau, and a 



ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 173 

decidedly comely daughter. So we put our best- 
looking and most persuasive subaltern on to the 
comely daughter ; whilst the Intelligence Officer 
took on the old dopper, and our tidy Major the 
mamma. But all were equally unsuccessful, and 
more especially so the good-looking subaltern. He 
said he had never come up against such a blank 
wall ; and as to Conyers and his commando, it got 
blanker than ever when he came to that. So, after 
a couple of hours, we trekked on and hoped for the 
best. 

It was getting on towards evening, and we were 
getting near the end of our day's trek, when we 
espied in the far distance a streak of dust, and a 
single horseman riding after us. As it got nearer we 
were surprised to see the rider wearing a sun-bonnet, 
and discovered it was a woman, and finally recog- 
nised the comely daughter of the last farm. 

" I want to see the Commandant of this com- 
mando." 

** Yes, here I am ; what do you want ? " 

" Conyers is expected at our farm to-night, and 
if you come back before dawn you will catch him." 

" And you ? " 

" I must hasten back, or they'll miss me." 

Here was rather a ticklish question. The whole 
affair might be a plant, and the good lady trying to 
entice us back into an ambush. On the other hand, 
if her story was true, and we kept her, her absence 
might put all on the alert and defeat our plans that 
way. However, on the whole we thought we had 
better keep her, and most unladylike remarks she 
made on hearing this. We waited till dark, and then 
turned on our tracks ; the lady's horse firmly tied 
to that of the Interpreter, with the good-looking 
subaltern as escort on the other side. After some 
hours we got back to the farm and silently sur- 
rounded it, and awaited the dawn. The girl was fast 



174 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

asleep, but had evidently been weeping bitterly. 
Poor dear. 

Dawn was heralded by the crack of a rifle, a bullet 
missing us by an extraordinarily few inches, and 
flattened itself with a crack against a rock in front. 
" Some infernal careless fellow letting off his rifle by 
mistake," and we cursed him inwardly. But quite 
a little hail of bullets followed, all from the rear, 
and a man was hit. It did not want a very intelli- 
gent person to grasp what was up. Conyers was out- 
side the net, and we had one foot in it ! A nasty few 
minutes ensued before we got some men together 
and slipped them round to turn the kopje the shots 
came from. The firing now ceased, and we shortly 
saw our men on top. Then we took the farm, but 
not a soul was in or near it except the old dopper 
and his frau. They went at us like furies for having 
abducted their daughter. But we could not stop to 
wrangle, and left the girl to tell such lies as seemed 
good unto her. Then, tired though our horses were 
after twenty-four hours on end, we pushed on after 
the Boers. 

Later the whole story came out. Conyers appar- 
ently had been courting the comely girl, and she 
loved him fiercely. It came, however, to her ears 
that he had thrown her over, and was now sitting up 
by candle-light with another girl. So, not unlike 
Jael, the wife of our old and valued friend Heber the 
Kenite, she determined to sacrifice him. That we 
did not succeed in furthering her wishes was due to 
the young Boer's astuteness. For instead of staying 
at the farm he lay a mile off, camped in a snug 
hollow. At dawn he was making off when he saw 
us, and fired a few shots into our backs from bravado. 
We never saw the girl again, though we passed that 
way often. 



ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 175 

On the other hand, we had several experiences 
with Boer women of quite another character, notably 
at a certain farm not a thousand miles from Cape 
Town. Here we had to halt for some days awaiting 
events ; and meanwhile, with the country swarm- 
ing with Boers and their spies, a weak column had 
to be particularly careful, lest its numbers and dis- 
positions should get known. To this end we care- 
fully picketed the farm to ensure that no news should 
get out ; and we also kept a sharp look-out on the 
Kafir kraal close by, to prevent any of the Kafirs 
getting away with a message. All the Boer men- 
folk of the farm were out fighting against us, and at 
the farm remained only mamma and, to our jaded 
and war-worn eyes, what looked like, and perhaps 
were, two remarkably handsome daughters. Possi- 
bly the illusion was heightened by pink sun-bonnets, 
a very becoming headpiece for the plainest old horse. 
Directly these girls were discovered, it was most in- 
teresting to notice what much more frequent visits 
to the farm had to be paid, on various pretexts, by 
all our most beautiful bloods. 

At breakfast might be heard one artless young 
man addressing the Mess President : 

" I say, Major, didn't I hear you say we were 
short of eggs ? FU just run up to the farm and see 
if they have got any." 

When he returned at 12 noon, the Mess President 
hailed him : " Well, how about those eggs ? " 

" Oh ! sorry, I clean forgot all about them." Pink 
sun-bonnets. 

At lunch another bright star would discover that 
we had no butter, or that it was not good, and the 
only thing was to go up to the farm and see about it. 

Even quite a respectable Field Officer with an eye- 
glass, and a family at home, might be seen carrying 
up buckets of water from the pond, a good 400 yards, 
to the farm. 



176 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

Two of the bloods were apparently specially 
favoured, and went up very often. They said the 
girls were jolly glad to see them ; it was so deadly 
dull up there all alone ; they hoped they would come 
often ; and, funnily enough, added that they had an 
intense love and admiration for British Officers. 

A few days after, one of the men on picket round 
the Kafir kraal brought in a note, which he had 
found on a Kafir who was sneaking off with it. It 
read as follows : — 

" Dear Piet, 

" I love you very much. I hope you love me 
still. The Rooineks are still camped here, but there 
are very few of them, and only one gun. I have 
counted not more than 200 horses down at water. 
I think there are not more than 150 Rooineks. The 
English Officers often come up to the farm to buy 
milk and eggs, which we have to sell them, but they 
don't mind what they pay. A shilling for a bottle 
of milk. There are two that come more regularly ; 
we feel inclined to spit in their faces, the loathsome 
cowards and murderers of our kinsfolk, but we hope 
to get information out of them, etc. etc. etc. 

" Karoline." 

When our two pet bloods saw that letter they 
were, for a time, feeling a little discomposed. But 
the British subaltern is not easily defeated, and, 
between them, they concocted a gem from Piet to 
Karoline, which they smuggled, with extraordinary 
cunning, through the Kafir kraal into the farm. It 
ran : 

" Dear Karoline, 

" Thou accursed woman ! Thou hast read 
the story of Rahab, and like her, made friends with 
the enemies of the Lord. Have I not heard how thou 



ADVENTURES IN THE BOER WAR 177 

hast taken as thy lover the rich Major with the glass 
eye, that thou may est live in his palace in London, 
and scoff at us poor Boers. And now thou attempt- 
est to betray us into the hands of the accursed 
Rooineks by falsely telling us they are weak and 
leading us into an ambush. But our Commandant 
is too slim for that. May the curse of God be on you. 

" PlET." 

The next day we went on trek, and never saw 
Karoline again, or, to our knowledge, Piet. 



War and peace, bloodstained clothes and silks and 
frills, got strangely mixed at times. Towards the end 
of the war we were working, as one of a chain of 
columns under Sir John French, clearing Cape Colony 
of Boers and rebels. We were given a list of farms 
whose owners had turned rebels, and told to sit 
heavily on them. In other words, clear them of all 
stock and supplies, which helped to support and keep 
going the enemy, both rebels and Boers. One day 
we reached a large farm at the hour of the midday 
halt, and the Intelligence Officer informed us that 
this was one of the proscribed farms ; that the 
owner and his two brothers were out with a rebel 
commando, whilst the wife remained at home, and 
sent them out supplies and information. It was 
quite a big place, more like a good-sized English 
country house than a colonial farm, with English 
furniture, a ball-room, and conservatories. 

We outspanned close by, and a polite invitation 
to breakfast came from our unwilling hostess. How- 
ever, it is difficult to breakfast first with a lady and 
then lay her waste. So we politely declined, and, 
setting a guard on the house to protect her and her 
household goods, we set to work to clear up the crops 
and cattle. Time was short, and we really inflicted 

M 



178 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

no great loss, but, such as it was, it was doubtless 
highly annoying to the lady of the house. Anyway, 
as we marched away we saw a tall and bounteous 
female, arrayed in a black dress, with a large and 
opulent hat, standing in the veranda, and gloomily 
watching us. In reality, she was probably counting 
the exact number of men, guns, and wagons in the 
column ! 

We were trekking for about a month or more, on 
and off, before working in to Beaufort-West again. 
There one night the General asked me to dinner, and 
who should be my partner, but the very same mag- 
nificent lady whose farm had been harried ! She 
recognised me at once, and I her, and we learnt after- 
wards that she had come in, during a lull in her 
activities, to make a bitter and heart-rending com- 
plaint against our column, and to demand a liberal 
compensation ! We got on perfectly well at dinner, 
and she told me her boy had been at Eton, but was 
withdrawn when the war began ; that she herself 
used to go nearly every year to London and Paris. 
A very pleasant lady, but with a somewhat perverted 
idea as to what a lady, and a subject of His Most 
Gracious Majesty, may, or may not do, in time of war. 

Next morning, as in duty bound, we went off on 
trek to try to kill or capture the husband and two 
brothers of the bounteous lady in the large hat, they 
being rebels against the King's Most Excellent 
Majesty. 



CHAPTER XII 

SOUTH AFRICAN JOTTINGS 

Lord Methuen — A Sahib of the Deepest Dye — Who is a Sahib ? — 
The Column Commander — " Eternal Damnation to Steyn and 
De Wet " — A Motley Column — Caton Woodville Pictures — And 
How They Panned Out — A Treacherous Shot — The Rapscallion 
Squadron — The Lord Mayor and Burghers — The Column Com- 
mander Speaks — The Daily Double Trek — Attacking the Kopjes 
— The Red-haired Boer — " Don't Shoot the Poor Devil " — The 
Column Commander's Last Trek — Rudyard Kipling — His 
Greeting — Cecil Rhodes — His Quest — Rudyard Kipling's Great 
Achievement — The Yeomen Cheer Rudyard Kipling and Cecil 
Rhodes — Their Modest Departure — Baden-Powell — Some Old 
Stories — His Reception in Cape Town — His Buttons Cut Off — 
Shot into Government House — An Honest Helper — Far- 
reaching Effect of Defence of Mafeking 

LORD METHUEN was once described as "A 
Sahib of the deepest dye," and all we 
-^ who served under him in South Africa 
heartily agree with that verdict. It perhaps does 
not convey so much to people in England as to 
those who have served out and about the world, 
and in India. One of the greatest tributes to the 
English character, and to the cleanness of British 
rule in India, is found in that simple small word 
" Sahib," which originally meant little different to 
** Esquire." All Englishmen in India for genera- 
tions have been called " Sahibs," and yet though 
there are, as elsewhere, good, bad, and indifferent 
Englishmen, that word has not deteriorated. On 
the other hand, it has greatly increased in honour 
and value. You will hear an Indian say of some 
exceptionally good Officer : 
*' Ah, yes, he is a true Sahib." 

179 



i8o A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

You will hear an Englishman say of another 
whom he likes and respects : 

" He's a Sahib." 

Incidentally inferring in that brief sentence that 
he possesses all the best qualities of a British Officer 
and English gentleman. To describe, therefore, an 
Officer as was Lord Methuen as "a Sahib of the 
deepest dye " means a very great deal. 

It has nothing to do with rank or wealth. A 
peer of the realm is not necessarily a " Sahib " ; nor 
is a great warrior, or even a bishop. The right 
class of subaltern may hold the title before them. 

There were many new types evolved in South 
Africa, and one was the Column Commander. n 
pi^A short, spare little man with a brick-red face, 
close-cropped hair, and a three days' beard. His 
dust-coloured uniform stained and creased, and 
worn and torn ; a boot on one foot, and a veldt 
shoe, to make easy a wound, on the other. The 
inevitable puttee gaiters, a scratched and ragged 
Sam Browne belt, with a revolver thrust into the 
sword frog ; a sjambok in one hand, a pipe in his 
mouth, and a venerable slouch hat tipped over his 
right eye — such was our Column Commander. 

For 3000 miles had we followed him over the 
endless veldt, and though deadly weary, deadly 
home-sick, we were ready to double that record. 
Somebody said : 

" We have fought together in eighty-four 
' scraps,' " but nobody answered yea or nay. 
We had given up counting, and only knew we were 
prepared to fight as many more, rather than leave 
the job unfinished. 

" And eternal damnation on Steyn and De Wet 
for keeping us out ! " 

Scattered up and down through the length and 
breadth of South Africa are little mounds, and 
sometimes little crosses, which serve as landmarks 



SOUTH AFRICAN JOTTINGS i8i 

of our wanderings, and mark the places where one 
by one, by twos and threes, by tens and twenties, 
our comrades have entered into the soldier's im- 
mortal rest — but the column marched on for ever. 

Looking back upon the birth of our column in 
the dim past, one is filled with mild surprise that it 
ever reached maturity. Hastily thrown together, 
a medley of irregular squadrons, all ignorant of 
war or even a soldier's elementary duties. Mounted 
on green horses straight from the sea ; one gun, 
under a garrison gunner ; 350 mules and 35 carts 
under no one in particular, and with drivers who 
had never seen a mule before ; the sole Staff Officer 
a child from Sandhurst, but — saving clause — a 
Column Commander in whom, down to the boy 
trumpeter, who was paid a shilling a day not to 
trump, we had implicit confidence. 

That was our side of the question, but one often 
wondered what were the feelings of the Column 
Commander, as he led forth this motley array of 
amateurs to cross swords with De Wet, Delarey, or 
Botha ! 

Whatever he thought, however, he never let it 
be seen that he had any but the blindest confidence 
in our prowess, and we in our ignorance were per- 
fectly pleased with ourselves. 

War against the Boers was in our imagination a 
series of Cat on Woodville pictures. The three 
most prominent being — 

" The Race for the Kopje," in which we always 
got there first and triumphantly received a Boer 
commando at twenty yards' range with a withering 
volley. 

" Saving the guns " (we only had one, but we 
all meant to save it). The gunners and team being 
shot down,we were to dash in on foot, seize the gun, 
run it down the hill, harness our horses to it with 



i82 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

bits of string, and gallop wildly away, all eyes 
looking as if they were going to pop out of their 
respective heads, whilst those of the horses shot out 
great flashes as well. Lastly, but chiefly, 

" A V.C. Episode," according to the sealed 
pattern, wherein it is first necessary to find a dis- 
mounted person — an Officer for choice — to then 
quietly but firmly insist that he shall jeopardise 
his life and future prospects by mounting behind 
the V.C. man, thus to be conveyed as expeditiously 
as possible within view of a General, or other 
superior Officer. In accordance with precedent and 
the custom of the Service, this General or other 
superior Officer would then fall on the V.C. man's 
neck, call him a gallant fellow, and producing a 
Victoria Cross from his hip pocket, firmly pin him 
thereto. 

The kopje episode we frequently experienced, 
especially in our early days ; with this difference 
only, that the Boers generally got there first, and 
gave us an exceedingly warm welcome. The gun 
to the end got along famously without being once 
saved, which was perhaps a little disappointing for 
all, except the gunners, who would have had to be 
killed to complete the episode. And the only occa- 
sion on which anyone tried the V.C. tableau, he 
was merely met with the mild enquiry from our 
Column Commander, " Well, and what d — d tom- 
foolery are you up to now ? " I think our Com- 
mander was one of the first to discover that as long 
as the ground is rideable, and a wide extended 
formation is used, it is possible with little loss to 
gallop an enemy out of his position. Times out of 
number have we done this to the Boers, till they 
also learnt the lesson and took to galloping our 
people out of convoys. The only drawback to this 
evolution was that swords and lances having been 



SOUTH AFRICAN JOTTINGS 183 

relegated to the museum, we had nothing wherewith 
to smite the foe when we got there. 

Perhaps one of the most silent men in South 
Africa was our Column Commander, except only 
when he came across a rebel, and then the glacier 
melted, and there was a fine flow of the politest and 
bitterest English. I remember one day, as we were 
marching past the outskirts of a small town in Cape 
Colony, a shot was fired from one of the houses 
which badly wounded one of our men. The Colonel 
promptly dropped into the town a squadron of 
some pretty lively Colonial birds we then had with 
the column, with orders to thoroughly search it for 
arms and ammunition ; and also to bring ten of the 
chief inhabitants on foot five miles out to his camp. 

An ordinary squadron, searching for arms and 
ammunition in an ordinary town, does not cause 
much inconvenience, but the Lord preserve the town 
that on an extraordinary occasion had to be searched 
by our Rapscallion squadron. I happened to go 
back with some orders whilst the search was pro- 
ceeding, and was equally struck with the thorough- 
ness with which it was carried out, and the vitupera- 
tive vocabulary of the Dutch ladies. That is to say, 
of the old Dutch ladies and the very young ones, 
fat old vraus of fifty and little chickens of fifteen ; 
whilst the ladies of an intermediate age were philo- 
sophically civil, and even obliging. There was only 
one Englishman in the place, and he was the doctor ; 
the rest were Dutch, and rank rebels at that. Am- 
munition was found in four houses, and the owners 
thereof were at once tried by court-martial and 
sentenced to various terms of imprisonment and 
fines of varying amounts. 

But the most inspiring part of the incident was 
when the ten chief residents, headed by the Lord 
Mayor, arrived exceedingly hot in camp. The 
Lord Mayor started on the high-horse game, to which 



i84 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

our Column Commander listened quietly for a few 
minutes, and then the ciam broke ! A torrent of 
seething invective r;.ured forth, which I remember 
ended, " This is a Kinpa Colony, and if a shot is 
ever again fired from your town on the King's 
troops, I will burn down one house for every shot 
fired, and if by chance any of my men are killed, 
I shall hang you man for man, commencing with 
you, sir," pointing at the Lord Mayor ! Never was 
seen such a mean crowd as those ten elders as they 
footed it back to town. Needless to say that not 
a mouse stirred again in that place. There is only 
one thing the Dutchman understood in the war, 
and that was the fist, the almighty fist, and an 
exceedingly heavy fist. So also is it with the 
Germans. 

" Where are you, and what have you been do- 
ing ? " was the burden of our letters from home. And 
echo answered " where " and " what " indeed ? 
Perhaps Lord Kitchener knew, though I doubt it ; 
possibly the Column Commander, after deep thought, 
could give a faint outline, but to the rank-and-file 
the past was merely an endless vista of double 
treks. Reveille at 3.30 a.m., trek from dawn till 
noon ; grazing the horses in the blazing sun or 
driving rain till 2 p.m. ; up saddle and then trek 
on till dark. Now and again a " scrap " with 
brother Boer, and now and again a small town 
passed. But on the whole a weary, dreary night- 
mare, and not worth writing about. 

The Boer War produced many things good and 
bad. It produced, amongst others. Mounted In- 
fantry, and Dr. Leyds and Mount Nelson warriors 
and slouch-hat soldiering. But perhaps one of the 
most useful products of the war was the Column 
Commander. Here we had fifty or sixty young 
officers who for months and years together had 
borne the burden of independent command and 



SOUTH AFRICAN JOTTINGS 185 

independent responsibility. That training was in- 
valuable, and out of the ranks of these tried and 
gallant young leaders we had no difficulty for the 
next ten or fifteen years in finding the right class 
of Generals which the growing responsibilities of 
the Empire required. 

But amongst them will not be found our Column 
Commander ; for God gave him rest at last. It 
happened in this way. We had been marching for 
about a couple of hours one day in August, when 
riding over a great roll in the veldt we came into 
sudden view of the Boer laager, hastily breaking up, 
about five miles off. It was a strong commando, 
we knew, and could see for ourselves, but that is 
just where our little man came in. " When people 
are in a hurry to go it takes very little persuasion 
to make them go faster," he said, so, without a 
moment's hesitation, our three weak squadrons, 
say two hundred men all told, were hurled against 
more than ten times that number of war-beaten 
burghers. With one squadron leading and the other 
two lying back a bit on each flank, we made a steady 
sling trot straight for that laager ; the little man 
leading a good hundred yards in front with his old 
pipe, and older hat well cocked. First we met a 
shell or two, then rode into a belt of pompoms ; 
and then came on to the double ring, and bullet 
swish, of the Mauser. But we took no heed or 
notice, and just slogged on quietly on our tired 
horses. Parties of horsemen sent out hastily to 
check and stay us fell back, broken and dismayed, 
and still we jogged on. And now we had arrived at 
a grassy ridge on the summit of which was a deserted 
Kafir kraal, about half a mile short of the retreating 
enemy. It did not want a year's fighting in South 
Africa to know that that grassy ridge and kraal 
was stiff with Boers ; and so they were, and that 
was what we had come for. The centre squadrons 



i86 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

slackened pace a bit, and the two flank squadrons, 
digging a canter out of their horses, swept out and 
round, and then wheehng inwards pushed right up 
the grassy slopes. Stark against the sky they 
stood to us, and then came a rattle and crash of 
rifle fire. 

It was a Caton Woodville picture this time all right! 
The right squadron checked, wavered, and melted 
away. The left squadron pushed on with hardy reso- 
lution ; perhaps it was not noticed at first, or was 
hidden by a fold — and then its turn came. It was, 
as it seemed almost petulantly, swept from the 
earth, and the ground lay thick with men and 
horses. In front of us of the centre squadrons was a 
rock-strewn gentle slope, and our next lucid recollec- 
tion was charging madly up the gentle rock-strewn 
slope straight at the Kafir kraal, apparently through 
a driving hailstorm, though we have since learnt it 
was bullets. In a few seconds we were over and into 
them, and there in the midst of a deadly hand-to- 
hand strife came our Column Commander's call to 
that land where they say there is Eternal Peace. 

As we rushed at the Boers, the Adjutant hap- 
pened to be a little to his left rear. There were, 
perhaps, seventy or eighty of the enemy at this 
spot ; some shooting, some struggling on to their 
horses, and some in full fhght. About twenty 
yards to the Commander's right front was a red- 
haired, grizzly-bearded burgher, who evidently 
meant dying. The Adjutant raised his pistol and 
covered him, but the flash of the barrel caught the 
Commander's eye, and he turned round and said 
in his gentle way, " Don't shoot the poor devil ! " 

And that was the last order our Column Com- 
mander gave in this world. He lived on till evening, 
suffering greatly, but patient ever, and towards sun- 
down a great peace fell on him, and with the sun his 
quiet smile died gently away. 



SOUTH AFRICAN JOTTINGS 187 

One soft sigh, and another great heart^had gone 
on its last trek. 

Rudyard KipHng was at Simla for brief periods 
of leave during the middle eighties. He was then 
sub-editor of the Civil and Military Gazette of Lahore. 
His " Plain Tales from the Hills " used to appear on 
the front page of that newspaper, over the initials 
R.K. We thought he was never in Simla long 
enough at a time to get the intimate knowledge of 
the social atmosphere which his writings portrayed. 
And we concluded, rightly or wrongly, that he was 
greatly helped in this respect by his clever little 
sister, who spent several seasons running at Simla. 
It was she, I think, who told us that her brother 
used to walk down the road to Jutogh, where was 
stationed a British Battery of Mountain Artillery 
and a Company of British Infantry, and that on the 
road he used to stop and converse with the British 
soldiers, and thus got many of his quaint soldier 
expressions and turns of language. He used to do 
the same at Lahore, going down to the fort to meet 
soldiers. 

And now for a curious thing. I myself had 
served for many years with soldiers, but had never 
once heard the words or expressions that Rudyard 
Kipling's soldiers used. Many a time did I ask my 
brother Officers whether they had ever heard them. 
No, never. But sure enough, a few years after the 
soldiers thought, and talked, and expressed them- 
selves exactly like Rudyard Kipling had taught 
them in his stories ! He would get a stray word 
here, or a stray expression there, and weave them 
into general soldier talk, in his priceless stories. 
Rudyard Kipling made the modern soldier. 

Other writers have gone on with the good work, 
and they have between them manufactured the 
cheery, devil-may-care, lovable person enshrined 
in our hearts as Thomas Atkins. Before he had 



i88 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

learnt from reading stories about himself that he, as 
an individual, also possessed the above attributes, 
he was mostly ignorant of the fact. My early 
recollections of the British soldier are of a bluff, 
rather surly person, never the least jocose or light- 
hearted, except perhaps when he had too much 
beer. He was brave always, but with a sullen, 
stubborn bravery. No Tipperary or kicking foot- 
balls about it. 

To Rudyard KipHng and his fellow-writers the 
Army owes a great debt of gratitude for having 
produced the splendid type of soldier who now 
stands as the English type. 

It was during the Boer War that I met Rudyard 
Kipling again. I was out of camp at the time, and 
on my return was met by Beresford-Peirse, my 
Adjutant, who said : 

" Two fellows have come to see you. One is a 
very big fellow, and the other very small. Don't 
know who they are." 

By the Mess cart were standing two gentlemen, 
both in mufti. One I at once recognised as Rudyard 
Kipling. His greeting was quite characteristic. He 
wore divided glasses, the top half for landscapes, 
and the bottom half for reading and writing. 

He was peering through the top halves, and as we 
approached, and without further prelude, he burst 
out : 

" I say, who were the other two living in Kashmir 
House, Lahore ? One was Younghusband. Who 
were the other two ? " 

" Woon and Maude," I replied, and offered them 
some tea, I am afraid without sugar or milk. 

"So it was. Let me introduce my friend, Mr. 
Cecil Rhodes." 

Cecil Rhodes had come on business, and broke in 
at once : 

" You have five hundred English horses here, and 




f 



I.IF.UT.-CKN. SIR ROBERT HAOKN POWELL, COMMANDING IN THE 
DKl-ENCE OF MAEEKINt;, 1899 — GO 



SOUTH AFRICAN JOTTINGS 189 

amongst them a lot of mares. What will you take 
for the mares ? " 

He was told that we had bought them under 
regimental arrangements in England, at an average 
price of £35. That they were Government property, 
and probably stood the Government in about £60 
apiece landed in S. Africa. 

" Well, after the War is over" (Cecil Rhodes and 
many others thought it would be over in a few 
weeks, or at most months), " if my stud groom, Mr. 
Collins, may come down and take his pick, I will 
give £120 apiece for them. I want them for stud 
purposes." 

We said we thought that this arrangement would 
suit the Government very well. 

But long before the War was over the great Cecil 
Rhodes was dead, and probably not one of those 
five hundred horses remained. 

As the two great men were leaving the camp, the 
gallant Yeomen of the 3rd Imperial Yeomanry, 
hearing that two such celebrated persons were in 
camp, gathered together to see them, and raised a 
hearty cheer. 

Said Cecil Rhodes hastily : 

" Take off your cap, they are cheering you." 

Said Rudyard Kipling : 

" No they are not. They are cheering you. Take 
off your cap." 

Then Solomon at their elbow suggested : 

" I think they are cheering you both." 

Whereupon both, clinging close together for sup- 
port, shyly took off their caps. 

Sir Robert Baden-Powell, whose name is most 
honourably connected with S. Africa, in his own 
book^ has told the story of how he passed himself 
off as a foreign newspaper correspondent at Simla. 

^ Indian Memories. 



igo A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

I was there at the time, and he was described to me 
as an Itahan Count, and none of us certainly had 
any notion that he was a British Colonel, so good 
was his get up and acting of the part of a foreigner. 
Indeed, at the supper on the stage after the per- 
formance, the mother of the leading lady in the 
play, next which beautiful damsel Sir Robert sat 
at supper, was filled with fury that a "dam' Dago" 
should pay such marked attention to her daughter, 
and tried to incite a British Officer to go and punch 
his head. 

" It's only their foreign way, dear lady," he 
replied, and soothed her down. 

Another episode which does not appear in Sir 
Robert's book was ascribed, rightly or wrongly, to 
him. A campaign was in progress against the 
Afridis in Tirah, a mountainous country unsuitable 
for Cavalry. Thus the 5th Dragoon Guards, of which 
Sir Robert was colonel, remained behind at Meerut. 
But curiously coincident with the absence of the 
Colonel on ten days' leave appeared a mysterious 
postal Babu, or native clerk, at one of the advance 
field post offices in Tirah. The said Babu dis- 
appeared, after a few days, as mysteriously as he 
appeared, and the rumour went round that, thus 
disguised. Colonel Baden-Powell had seen a bit of 
the fighting. 

After the relief of Mafeking, the gallant defender 
of that historic spot went down to Cape Colony for 
a few weeks' rest and was invited to stay with Mr. 
Cecil Rhodes at "Grootschur." To get to Mr. Cecil 
Rhodes' house one left the main line at a small 
junction named Five Rivers just short of Cape 
Town, and went up a side line. Sir Robert was 
preparing to change trains when a deputation 
approached him, and said that the people of Cape 
Town had prepared a great reception for him, and 
would be very much disappointed if he did not turn 



SOUTH AFRICAN JOTTINGS 191 

up. So Sir Robert got into the train again, and went 
on the few miles to Cape Town. There, to his 
horror, he found the whole platform from end to 
end filled with a seething mass of cheering people. 

Directly he stepped from the door of his carriage, 
those nearest seized him forcibly and hoisted him 
on their shoulders. Others crowded round to help 
with such enthusiasm that as often as not his legs 
were in the air and his head down. Certain nefarious 
persons also commenced cutting the buttons off his 
coat as souvenirs. 

He was thus borne into the street where more 
huge crowds awaited him. It was tacitly assumed 
that he was going to stay at Government House, so 
up the hill the enthusiastic crowd carried him, hat- 
less, dishevelled, and with all his buttons gone. 
In this condition he was hurled into the front door of 
the house of a complete stranger, and to which he 
had not been invited, to the intense astonishment 
of his host. 

During this tremendous melee, one careful and kind 
fellow, noticing the generally upside-down position 
in which the returned warrior was carried, cleverly 
picked his pockets, and tying up the contents in a 
pocket-handkerchief threw it through the door after 
him. 

The heroic and prolonged defence of Mafeking 
was not only an isolated achievement, however 
gallant and memorable, but we have since learnt 
that the fall of Mafeking was to be the signal for 
a general rising of the Dutch in Cape Colony. Had 
this happened, it would have very materially affected 
Lord Roberts' great advance on Pretoria. 



CHAPTER XIII 

ON LEAVE IN AMERICA 

The Millionaire's Suite on Board — First Shave in America — Travel- 
ling at Night — With a Stout Lady — We Dress Together — 
Staying with the Griscoms — " Tactless " Defined— The British 
Way — A Reporter at Dinner — " Borrows " a Photograph — 
" The British Fighter is Here " — Mr. Roosevelt at Oyster Bay — 
American Individuality—" He Wants to be the Corpse " — 
Roosevelt's Rough Riders — A Postal Achievement—" Be 
Strong or Git " — My Brother Frank — His Candour — A Relic of 
Wolfe — The Heights of Abraham — British Gunners Speak 
French — The Races at Toronto — Canadian Hospitality — The 
Montreal Choir — A Country House in America — A Bright Throng 
— Making a Night of It — An Experience at Bridge — The Flapper 
— " You Carry Me " — Wins £^^o — Dividing the Spoil — The 
Diamond Bracelet — Poppa Displeased — Bong-bongs or Bouketts 
— The Right Way 

WHILST recovering from a long-standing 
wound, after the Boer War, and bored 
with having been shut up for some 
months, the brilhant suggestion was made that I 
should go to the United States and Canada, partly 
professionally and partly for the sake of my health. 
We were staying with some friends in Yorkshire 
at the time, and amongst our fellow-guests was 
Lloyd Griscom, a young American attache at their 
Embassy in London. 

" What line do you intend travelling by ? " We 
had calculated to go by the Cunard Line, and told 
him so. 

" Say ! You go by the American Line, and I'll 
see you're well looked after. My father's boss of 
that line." 

So on his advice we took the lowest priced first- 

192 



ON LEAVE IN AMERICA 193 

class tickets, and he enclosed a note, asking the 
management to do their best for us. 

On arrival at Southampton we were met by an 
exceedingly polite gentleman with his hat in his 
hand, who said he had received our American 
friend's note, and hoped he would succeed in making 
us comfortable. Whereupon we were shown up 
with great pomp and ceremony into the millionaire's 
suite, which happened to be empty that voyage, and 
travelled therein in great luxury across the Atlantic. 

The first intimate touch we had of that great and 
surprising country across the water was during 
the first morning shave in New York. I generally 
shave myself, but thought I would try the native 
talent. Not, however, being accustomed to be 
shaved by another, I was contorting my face about 
as one does, to stretch the skin probably, when 
shaving oneself. The gentleman who was honouring 
me with his attentions stopped, razor in hand, and 
gazing sternly at me, gave out this ultimatum : 

'* If you make faces at me, I'll cut yer ! " 

TraveUing by night train we were advised to 
book lower berths in advance : this we did. The 
lower and upper berths by day make two seats 
facing each other, and facing me was an exceedingly 
stout female. I was wondering languidly how she 
was going to get into the top berth, no mean feat for 
even a young and active man, when the nigger 
conductor came round to make up the beds. So 
I went off to have a smoke, and on my return found 
the problem very easily solved, for the stout lady 
had gone to sleep in my bed. And it was I who, 
with a game leg, had to climb up through her and 
undress in bed, putting my boots under my pillow, 
there apparently being nowhere else to put them. 
Next morning the stout lady and I dressed as best 
we could, partly in our beds and partly out, and as 
far as publicity went we might have been in the 



194 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

street. And what is more, she never thanked me 
for my bed ! 

I was telling this not very interesting story to 
some American friends. 

" That was vurry tactless of the woman," re- 
marked Momma. 

" What's tactless ? " asked Virginia. 

" Tactless, Virginia ? " drawled Poppa. *' Wal, 
I guess it would be tactless of you, when you go to 
Heaven and meet St. Peter, to start right in talk- 
ing about cocks." 

One evening we arrived just before dinner to 
stay with Lloyd Griscom's people in their country 
house near Philadelphia. It was pouring with rain, and 
we skipped out hastily into the hall, where a butler 
and footman received us, and also our host, Mr. 
Clem Griscom, and Lloyd Griscom. They welcomed 
us most kindly and hospitably. 

*' You're just in time. Run right away up and 
change your clothes, and it'll be dinner-time. Have 
a cocktail ? No ? Well, run away up." 

So up we went and waited for our hand baggage, 
grip-bags they call them, to be brought up. For 
it is the custom of the country to express your 
larger baggage through from place to place. This, 
though it sounds very nice and convenient, is very 
expensive, half a dollar a piece, and means that you 
do not, as a rule, get your trunks till several hours, 
perhaps days, after your own arrival. After waiting 
some time we rang the bell. No response. Rang it 
again. No response. So I went on a cruise of dis- 
covery, and at last found Lloyd. To him I confided 
our predicament. He at once burst into a roar of 
laughter. 

" Wal ! now if that ain't a Britisher all over ! 
Why, if you'd been an American you'd a held on 
to those grip-bags even if you hadn't a spare 
hand for your host. Why like as not they've gone 



ON LEAVE IN AMERICA 195 

off in the carriage, a quarter-mile down to the 
stables." 

Which proved to be the case. Of course, the way 
it struck us was that it was not much good keeping 
a butler and a footman if they didn't do their own 
work ! 

Cocktails all round in the drawing-room, and then 
to dinner. We had scarcely sat down when the 
butler came to me and said : " There's a gentleman 
wants to see you — a reporter, I think, sir." 

" Tell him I'm very sorry, I am at dinner." 

" Oh ! give him a chance," laughed our host, 
good-humouredly. " It is probably some poor devil 
to whom the five dollars he'll get for copy will mean 
a lot." 

So out I went and found a very apologetic and 
polite gentleman, who was greatly distressed at 
disturbing us, and to whom I talked for about five 
minutes, mostly about himself and his family. 

Next morning the papers had huge headlines, 

THE BRITISH FIGHTER IS HERE, 

accompanied by my photograph, which, by the way, 
the reporter had unofficially borrowed, whilst wait- 
ing, off my hostess's mantelpiece. There were about 
two columns, describing with a wealth of detail an 
interview, mostly imaginary, with the British Fighter. 
Before dinner was over another newspaper called 
us up from New York on the telephone, but I 
suborned the butler to work him off. What puzzled 
us most was how the reporters got to know where 
we were, and whom we were staying with, all over the 
States. 



Amongst other friends we stayed with was Mr. 
Roosevelt at Oyster Bay, a most genial and interest- 
ing host, with strong views on many subjects. One 



196 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

of these was that you spoilt a boy's individuaUty if 
370U interfered with him too much, and he and Mrs. 
Roosevelt had quite an amiable argument at break- 
fast as to whether Kermit was to be allowed to wade 
in the sea with his clothes on or not. Mrs. Roose- 
velt said " No," because he not only spoilt his 
clothes, but caught cold. Mr. Roosevelt, on the 
other hand, said " Yes," because it was interfering 
with his individuality if you did not so allow 
him. 

Kermit had a sly hit back at his father, in quite 
a dispassionate and guileless manner. 

" You know father likes to be top dog, the most 
prominent person wherever he is. If he's at a 
wedding he wants to be the bride, and if he's at a 
funeral he wants to be the corpse." 

We were looking at an enlarged photograph of 
a group of horsemen, under which was inscribed 
" Roosevelt's Rough Riders." In rather idle 
curiosity it occurred to me to ask where they got 
their horses from. 

" Horses ! " exclaimed Mr. Roosevelt, " we hadn't 
any. We went through the campaign on foot, and 
only got those to be photographed on when we got 
back." 

He also told us most amusing stories of how he 
commandeered a passenger train in New York to 
take his regiment to Key West, and how at Key 
West he captured the transport assigned to some 
other regiment, and set sail for Cuba. 

In his scrap-book Mr. Roosevelt showed us an 
example of remarkable intelligence on the part of 
the postal department. Some facetious person had 
drawn a pair of pince-nez and a set of teeth on an 
envelope, put a stamp on it, and dropped it into 
a pillar-box in New York. By the very first delivery 
it was handed to Mr. Roosevelt. Those who have 
seen Mr. Roosevelt making a speech, or even a 



ON LEAVE IN AMERICA 197 

photograph of him doing so, will at once appreciate 
the pleasantry. 

That reminds me of another Roosevelt story. 
When Mr. Roosevelt was in Egypt, he made a 
speech the drift of which was : "If you British 
mean to stay in Egypt, be strong ; and if you don't, 
git ! " Shortly after my brother Frank, who had 
just retired from His Majesty's Service, and was 
thinking of going into Parliament, was making a 
political speech somewhere. In the course of his 
remarks he said that he thoroughly agreed with Mr. 
Roosevelt, and added that the same line of argu- 
ment applied to India. He then went on to point 
out that this principle was not being acted upon 
by the Government of the day. Next morning he 
received a peremptory order to at once go and see 
a certain Cabinet Minister, the fact having been 
overlooked that he was now a gentleman at large. 
He was in due course ushered into the great man's 
study, and there received with considerable cold- 
ness. 

" Do you know, Sir Francis, this is not only an 
attack on the Government, but a personal attack on 
me f " exclaimed the Cabinet Minister with some 
warmth. 

" Well, sir, I am sorry you take it so, but " — 
in a burst of candour — " to tell you the truth, I 
meant it to be ! " 

That was one of the sweetest moments in his life, 
for the politicians had treated him badly over his 
great achievement in Thibet. 

When we were in Quebec rather a curious thing 
happened. Seeing my name in the Chateau Fron- 
tenac Hotel register, an old retired officer of the 
i8th Royal Irish, as far as I remember, came to call 
on us, delighted to meet again a brother Officer. 
A few days later he asked us up to lunch, his house 
being on the Heights of Abraham, on the site of the 



igS A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

battle in which Wolfe died. Whilst we were at 
lunch some men, who were digging a hole for a 
telegraph post not far from the house, about three 
feet down, came across a grape shot, evidently a 
relic of the battle. This our host insisted on giving 
me, as my old regiment, the 17th Foot, served 
under Wolfe in that very war. 

We were also granted a pass to see over the 
Citadel. At the gate, in the uniform of the British 
Royal Artillery, were a couple of non-commissioned 
officers and half a dozen men, two being on sentry. 
I handed my pass to the Sergeant, who took it with 
finished politeness, and after looking at it, to our 
great astonishment, said in excellent French : " Par- 
faitement, monsieur, par ici." And not one word 
of English could that Sergeant in the English Royal 
Artillery uniform speak ! 

Canadian hospitality to the travelling soldier is 
unbounded, and we had not been an hour in Toronto 
when the call-boy came to say that a gentleman 
wanted to speak to me on the telephone. '* I am 
Major Dawson of the Royal Canadian Dragoons," 
the voice said, " and saw your name on the hotel 
register. To-morrow is the first day of the races. 
May our coach call for you on the way down ? Also 
I propose securing free passes for you and your 
wife to the grand stand and paddock." All very 
nice and friendly ; and a most enjoyable afternoon 
we had. The racing lasted for nine days on end : 
six days one week, Sunday rest ; and three days 
next week ! 

On the day we were leaving Montreal for Quebec 
we found we had a lot to do at the last moment, 
so I calculated out roughly what the tickets would 
cost, and told the hotel porter to get them, register 
our baggage, take our seats, and await our arrival 
on the platform. We just caught the train, and the 
porter handed over our tickets and a considerably 



ON LEAVE IN AMERICA 199 

larger amount of change than we had anticipated. 
However, we thought we must have made a mistake, 
gave the porter his tip, and jumped into the train. 
When we got into the Pullman we thought our 
fellow-passengers were looking at us with some 
curiosity, but put that down to gossip on the part 
of the hotel porter, who as likely as not had given a 
biographical sketch of us. After a time, however, 
the ticket collector came round, and we noticed 
great consultations going on, and covert looks of 
a deeply suspicious type being cast in our direction. 
We were beginning to feel like fugitives from justice, 
when the conductor at last came across and said, 
" Say, mister, let's see your ticket," in about the 
tone a righteous conductor would use towards a 
fugitive from justice. I produced the tickets, and 
the conductor, after scrutinizing them, remarked : 
" That's all right," and went back to console and 
reassure the other passengers. Suspicious looks 
were now turned to those of mere curiosity, and we 
had almost forgotten the incident when, in passing 
half an hour later, the conductor remarked : 

" You've got a nice night for your show " ; and 
passed on. 

A nice night for our show ! A nice night, no doubt, 
but we had so far made no plans for seeing any 
show. 

When he passed back, I asked, " What show ? " 
" Your show, of course," he replied, staring hard. 
** Haven't got a show. What do you mean ? " 
" Why, don't you belong to that lot up there ? " 
" No, never seen them in my life. Who are 
they ? " 

'* Well, I am jiggered ! " said the conductor. 
" That's the celebrated Choir from Montreal going 
down to sing at Quebec Cathedral. And they was 
two tickets out when I went to collect, and you've 
got 'em. So they thought you was two new hands 



200 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

come in at the last moment. How did you get the 
tickets ? " 

I told him. 

" Suppose he charged you full price for 'em ? " 

" No, he didn't." 

" Lorgoramighty, one honest Injun ! " 

So we travelled in great state and comfort, accom- 
panied by a very sensible economy, as a portion of 
the celebrated Montreal Choir, on its way to perform 
in the Cathedral at Quebec. 



Staying in a country house in America is great 
fun, and everyone is perfectly delightful to one, and 
everything is charmingly unconventional. No one 
seems to know exactly who, or how many, will come 
to lunch, or dinner, or even breakfast. 

" Well, what brought you, Pansie ? " 

" Oh ! I happened along." 

" And you, Elsie ? " 

" Oh ! I happened along too." 

One night at the Griscoms' six or eight, mostly 
girls, turned up suddenly, just before dinner. 

" The Silas P. Tokers are giving a hop over here, 
so we've come to dine and liven ourselves up a bit 
before," they announced. 

After dinner off they all went, taking some of 
our party too, but in less than an hour we heard 
great laughing and talking, and in they all burst 
again. 

" It was so deadly dull over there we've come 
back ; just to liven you all up again, 'fore going 
home," they explained. 

Our host and hostess invited them to stay as long 
as they liked, but they were going to bed ; the 
daughter of the house also retired, and so did all the 
servants. But this did not in the least disturb the 
festivities. Led by Lloyd, first we danced, and then 



ON LEAVE IN AMERICA 201 

we played games, and then drew pigs with our toes, 
and wrote limericks about each other. 

" My, I do feel hungry ! " exclaimed Pansie at 
about I a.m. 

" Here too, and thirsty as well," chorused Dixie 
and Mamie. 

" Let's go sample the larder," suggested someone. 

So we each took a bedroom candle and, headed 
by Elsie, made a descent into the regions below, and 
after careful search returned with quite a lot of 
provender. To wit, half a ham, some bread, two 
tins of sardines, a piece of cheese, some biscuits, 
several bottles of beer, and a jug of water. With 
these simple aids we made an excellent supper, and 
blessed our sleeping hostess. 

This put new spirits into the party, and it was 
3 a.m. before Pansie remarked, " Well, girls, it's 
about time we vamoosed." And off they went, as 
mightily pleased as we were with the livening up 
they had given us. 

An acquaintance of mine, not a very rich man, 
was staying in New York, and one night was asked 
out to dinner. After dinner, tables were laid for 
bridge, and he was asked if he would cut in. 

" Oh ! yes, certainly." 

But he little knew what was before him ! 

The first shock he got was when he heard the 
points mentioned. They were very much higher 
than he had ever played, or could afford to play. 
However, he was in for it now. His second shock 
came when he drew as his partner a girl of sixteen, 
just past the flapper stage. And his third and final 
shock came when the girl of sixteen leaned across to 
him, and said : 

" Say ! Poppa don't allow me to play bridge. 
Will you carry me ? " 

Of course he had to smile and say he would ; but 
he was feeling particularly unwell. However, before 



202 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

he had been playing five minutes he discovered that 
the girl of sixteen was an absolute professor at 
bridge ; he had never seen such play, and con- 
fidently and thankfully left everything he possibly 
could to her. They played together practically the 
whole evening, and when accounts were made up 
at the end, the plump and comfortable sum of £780 
sterling was pushed across to the Englishman. He 
carefully divided the money into two portions and 
pushed one across to the girl of sixteen. 

" No ! No ! " she exclaimed, " that's all yours. 
You carried me. My Poppa don't allow me to play 
bridge, an' what'd he say if I came home with all 
that money. Snakes ! he'd beat me good. No, no, 
you keep it all." 

And nothing would change her determination. 
So the Englishman took the money home, and next 
morning went down to Tiffany's, and buying a nice 
diamond bracelet for about £400, had it sent up 
with his compliments to his partner of the night 
before. And congratulated himself on having neatly 
and gallantly met the situation. He received no 
acknowledgment of his little souvenir, but a couple 
of mornings after, as he was dressing, the hotel 
valet came in and said a gentleman wanted to see 
him, and without further prelude in walked the 
gentleman. 

It was the goatee-bearded American father to the 
life! 

" Say, Mr. What'syername, I wanter know what 
you mean by sendin' valerable presents to my 
dorter," and he produced the fatal bracelet. 

" Indeed, I am very sorry " — and then the 
Enghshman, in spite of the old man's veto on bridge, 
thought he had better tell him the whole story. 

Poppa listened carefully. 

" That's so ? I'll let that gurl have it good when 
I get home. Why, she's as much chance of winnin' 



ON LEAVE IN AMERICA 203 

bye and large, with that lot, as a celluloid dog'd have 
of catching an asbestos cat, chasing through hell." 

" Well, if I may say so, your charming little 
daughter was, I think, the asbestos one last night," 
smiled the Englishman. 

Poppa was evidently somewhat mollified at the 
praise of his little girl, but he was adamant about 
the bracelet. 

" No, I won't have valerable presents made my 
dorter. If it was a box of bong-bongs now, or a 
boukett, that's another story. I wish you good 
morning, sir." 

And he made his departure, leaving the unhappy 
bracelet on the table. 

The Englishman was rather puzzled what to do, 
and was smiling over the celluloid dog, and the bong- 
bongs, and the boukett, when o happy inspiration 
came to him. He finished dressing, had his break- 
fast, and then made for the nearest bong-bong shop. 
There he bought the largest box of sweets — candies, 
the girl would have called them — obtainable, tucked 
the bracelet away at the bottom of them, and in 
due course sent the box up to his late partner. 

Evidently that was the right way to do things, 
for the girl, when they next met, thanked him sweetly 
for the candies, but said not one word about the 
bracelet. 

We stayed at another country house, this time in 
New England, with Mrs. Roosevelt-Cole, a sister of 
the President, a most charming hostess. Lloyd 
Griscom was there, and also a very pretty Miss 
Roosevelt, who was a very rich girl, having inherited 
a good deal of the Astor money. I was chaffing her 
one day, and said she must go over to England and 
marry a Duke. She pretended to be very angry 
indeed, and said she didn't hold at all with American 
girls marrying Englishmen, or indeed any but 
Americans. 



204 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

Several years afterwards, at a crush in London, 
I saw Helen Roosevelt sitting on a sofa some way 
off. Working through the crowd I went up to her, 
and one of the first things she said was : 

" Do you remember what I said about not marry- 
ing an Englishman ? Allow me to introduce my 
fiance," and she presented a young American. 

That was a bad loss for England, for she was a 
remarkably nice girl. 

Not far from the Roosevelt-Coles' house was a 
large girls' boarding school, where all the best 
families in the States, if they could afford it, sent 
their girls. And an exceedingly good time they must 
have had. It is not at many schools in England 
that the girls are allowed to keep dog-carts of their 
own (now probably replaced by motor-cars) as they 
did there. 

Noticing some large nursery gardens with long 
rows of greenhouses, we asked how they could 
possibly make it pay in a little village like this. 

" Pay ! " was the reply. " Why, it is supported 
almost entirely by the girls' school, they buy the 
lot." 

That must have been another handsome little 
item in Poppa's bill. 

Apparently the custom at the school was for the 
small girls to " bunch " the big ones, and the more 
they loved them the more they bunched them. 

The daily habit of presenting flowers to one's 
lady friends, very prevalent in America, is a very 
pretty one, though very expensive and perhaps a 
little overdone. On board the ship, when leaving 
New York, sheaves and baskets of flowers came for 
some of the girls. But there were so many that they 
did not in the least appreciate them. We saw lying 
about on the saloon tables the most beautiful and 
costly flowers, with the lady's and the sender's 
names on them, which were never even picked up. 



ON LEAVE IN AMERICA 205 

but left for the stewards to decorate the tables 
with. 

The first thing a reporter asks the traveller on 
landing are his impressions of America ; occasionally 
one asks the same question of the departing tourist. 
Our chief impression was of the exceeding kindness 
and hospitality of our American friends. They take 
endless trouble to make one happy and comfortable, 
and give one a good time. And, above all, they hope 
and wish you to go away with a good impression of 
America — and you do. 



CHAPTER XIV 

KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 

King Edward — A Great King — The Rapprochement with France and 
Russia — His Tact and Diplomacy — Political Foresight — 
Sandringham — Lord Marcus Beresford and the Mare— The 
Marquis de Soveral— " The Importance of Being Ernest" — A 
Game of Bridge — " Off with his Head " — -The Prince's Joke — 
" Persimmon " — The Prince and the Medal — Handing Potatoes 
to the German Emperor — Lord William Beresford — Some 
Anecdotes — Lord and Lady Dufferin — George V as Prince of 
Wales in India — The Royal Gift — The Prince's Charger — King 
George's Charger — Sir John Woon Twice to the Rescue — The 
German Emperor— Salisbury Cathedral — The Policeman's Story 
— The Former King of Siam — His 800 Wives — The Fate of an 
Amorous Page — Only 200 Wives on Week-end Visits — 
Milliners and Confectioners for 800 Wives — The Mikado — A 
Modern Monarch — In French Uniform — The Duke and Duchess 
of Connaught — A Divisional General in India — At a Small 
Dance — The Duke at Rawal Pindi — A Stanhope Gold Medal 
— Another — Mr. Roosevelt — The Boer Delegates — A Great 
President 

KING EDWARD VII, though his reign was 
short, will go down in history as one of the 
great Kings ol England. For he had not 
only the personal charm which made him popular 
with all his subjects, but he was a great ruler. 
Keeping well within the bounds of the British Con- 
stitution, he became a power in Europe and the 
world. Before King Edward came to the throne the 
leading royal personality in Europe was William II, 
the German Emperor. But in a very short time 
William II receded into the background, and the 
leading monarch in Europe, as well as the world, 
was King Edward. 

Two of his great personal achievements were the 
rapprochement he initiated and secured between 

206 




KINi; F.DWARl) \-II 



KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 207 

Great Britain and France on the one hand, and Great 
Britain and Russia on the other. For centuries 
we had been off and on at enmity with France, 
and many a campaign have we fought against the 
gallant French. During the Boer War, and for some 
time after, it was not pleasant, and sometimes 
scarcely safe, for an Englishman to travel in France. 
Porters at the station would not carry one's hand 
baggage, and hotel-keepers refused to take one in. 
Some even went so far as to change the names of 
their hotels from Angleterre to Russie, so unpopular 
was England. From this attitude of intense dislike, 
even of hatred. King Edward by his personal charm 
and diplomacy turned the French nation into our 
firmest friends and admirers. 

With Russia for generations we had been on the 
point of war over differences of opinion on Asiatic 
pohcy. The Russians did not perhaps dislike us 
as much as did the French, but there was open 
enmity between us, and both nations sat on a 
powder cask which any spark might explode. By 
King Edward's efforts that attitude on both sides 
was completely changed, and Russia and England 
became firm friends. 

What that pohtical foresight did for humanity this 
Great War has demonstrated. But for King Edward, 
Europe might now be under the iron heel of Prussia. 

There were merry days at Sandringham when 
King Edward was Prince of Wales, and many bright 
souls were brought together there for week-end 
parties. Amongst these was Lord Marcus Beres- 
ford, a man of very ready wit. 

^^ One day a mare belonging to Sir E. Cassel came 
down to be served by " Persimmon," a grand horse 
which the Prince had bred himself and which won 
the Derby. She came in a private horse-box, and 
outside was painted the owner's name, E. Cassel. 
Lord Marcus was looking on at the unboxing of the 



2o8 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

mare, and happened to glance at the name on the 
box. 

To the stud groom standing by, Lord Marcus re- 
marked : 

" You ought to have Sir E. Cassel on the box, 
now your master has become a K.C.M.G." 

" Ought I to, my lord ? And ought I to put the . 
K.C.M.G. too?" 

" Yes," replied Lord Marcus promptly. " You 
put the K.C.M. outside and the Gee inside." 

There was another merry quip at the time in 
which Sir Ernest Cassel figured. Someone asked 
the Marquis de Soveral if he had seen The Importance 
of being Ernest, a play which was then having a 
good run. 

" No, I have not," replied the Marquis, " but I 
have seen the great importance of being Ernest 
Cassel." 

The Princess of Wales, Princess Maud, Lord 
Marcus Beresford, and a young member of the 
Household were playing bridge together. In the 
course of the game the Princess of Wales apparently 
played a card that was not approved of by the 
young member. 

** You ought to have played the ace of spades, 
ma'am," he remarked rather abruptly. Bridge was 
in its infancy then. Lord Marcus looked sadly at 
the ceiling and soliloquised : 

" Why were we not born three hundred years 
ago ? " 

" Why so ? " asked everyone, puzzled. 

" Because then, ma'am, you would have said, 
' Off with his head.' " 

The Prince of Wales was fond of his little joke, 
and on one occasion two or three of us, out-dis- 
tancing the others, arrived with H.R.H. at the 
stable yard, on one side of which was " Persimmon's " 
box. In the middle of the yard, standing loose, was 



KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 209 

a very fine, well-groomed cart mare. The chance 
was too good to be lost, and as the rest came through 
the doorway the Prince, with great affability, not 
unmixed with a tone of pride, introduced them to 
" Persimmon," standing in the middle of the yard. 
They can hardly have been very knowledgable 
about horses, or else perchance they were courtiers 
of the richest dye, for the remarks to be heard were : 

" What a beauty ! " 

" No wonder he won the Derby ! " 

And a male voice : " By Jove, a regular fizzer ! " 

A slight pause, and then a quiet lady's drawl : 
" She's rather fat, isn't she ? " And that broke the 
spell. 

Then we really were introduced to " Persimmon." 

It was customary before leaving Sandringham 
for guests to write their names in the Prince of 
Wales's book. The Princess of Wales and Princess 
Victoria also asked some of the guests to write in 
their books. It was after dinner in the billiard-room, 
whilst writing my name in the Prince's book, that 
an extraordinary instance of his minute knowledge 
of the smallest affairs occurred. The Prince was 
sitting to my left, and suddenly remarked : " Why 
have you not got on such-and-such a medal ? " 
mentioning one that had been granted by a foreign 
Power. The said medal was reposing peacefully in 
some forgotten box ; nor had it occurred to me 
that it was meant to be worn. On the spur of the 
moment I made some blundering reply to this 
effect. 

" Well, I always look on the wearing of a medal 
like that as a matter of international courtesy," 
said His Royal Highness. '' I believe, however, that 
there is some damned red tape to be gone through 
at the War Office." 

The present King of Norway was also one of that 
party. A very good-looking, fine sailor. 



210 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

One evening, in thouglitful accents, and gazing 
sadly at a soldier. Lord Marcus Beresford remarked : 

" I can't think why you soldiers go worrying 
about the world, getting into all sorts of untidy 
wars, just to collect a few medals. Why, I know a 
fellow who has got nine medals and he has never 
been out of the dining-room." 

" Nine medals ! And never been out of the 
dining-room ? What did he get them for ? " 

" Get them for ? " with much deliberation. " Why, 
handing potatoes to the German Emperor." 

Writing of Lord Marcus Beresford reminds me 
of his brother. Lord William, Lord " Bill," as he was 
called by his intimates. 

He was not only a courteous and able Military 
Secretary to three successive Viceroys, but he knew 
how to keep people in order. At a dance one night 
at the Viceregal Lodge a Medical Officer took his 
partner to the buffet to give her nourishment. The 
khitmutgar behind the buffet did not at once comply 
with the order given ; whereupon the Medical 
Officer got angry, and called him several bad names 
in Hindustani. Lord William happened to be 
standing near, and overheard the remarks. He 
went up to the Officer, touched him on the shoulder, 
and led him apart from his lady. 

" Look here. So-and-so, this is the Viceroy's 
house and not a pub, and that is one of his private 
servants. This is evidently no place for you, and if 
you are not out of it in five minutes I'll damn well 
kick you out." 

And out he went ; and off the Viceregal Lodge 
list he came. 

One of the A.D.C.'s was dining out with friends 
one night, and in the course of conversation his 
hostess remarked that she had found great trouble 
in getting flowers for the table. 

" Oh ! ril get you lots," said the A.D.C. Accord- 




LORD WILLIAM KERESFORD IN I SS6 
R,firod,acJ/row -Lord William Hereford" ly kiini /-cmissio,, .'/Mrs. S/uarl Mnrzu- 



KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 211 

ingly next morning he went down into the Viceregal 
Lodge garden and sent for the gardener. To him 
he gave the commandment that he was to make up 
a nice large basket of roses, and send them up 
with his compliments to Mrs. This-or-That. Lord 
William, who had eyes and ears everywhere, heard 
of this, and after lunch took the A.D.C. by the arm 
and marched him quietly but firmly into his room. 

" Look here, young feller-me-lad, I hear you sent 
up some flowers to a lady to-day." 

" Yes, sir, I did." 

" Did you by any chance send them with His 
Excellency's compliments ? " 

" No, sir, I sent them with my own." 

" Thought so. May I ask is this His Excellency's 
garden or yours ? " 

" His Excellency's, of course. I thought there 
was no harm, there are lots of roses." 

" Well, sonny, next time you send flowers to your 
lady friends from other people's gardens, perhaps 
you'll ask their consent first. Just a matter of 
civility, you know." 

At a ball at Benmore one rather hot night, the 
contriver of the festival had arranged a lot of seats 
in pairs in the adjoining racquet court, which was 
pitch dark. So that those fond couples, who could 
not say all they had to say to each other in the ball- 
room, might do so more freely in this grateful 
shade. During one of the dance intervals. Lord 
William took his partner there to talk politics or 
what not, and whilst there she dropped a small 
brooch. Groping about in the dark they could not 
find it. 

" Light a match, will you. Lord William, and then 
we can see," said the lady. 

" Why not a bull's-eye lantern whilst we are 
about it ? No, no, let's play fair." Then he stood 
up, and in a loud and clear voice announced : 



212 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

** Ladies and Gentlemen, I am about to light a 
match." 

And after a tactful pause he did so. 

Lord William was no respecter of persons, and 
one night at a ball at the Viceregal Lodge, by 
some mistake such as rarely occurred, nobody had 
been told off to take Lady Roberts in to 
supper, so that when all had gone in she 
was left sitting alone on a sofa in the drawing- 
room. Lord William immediately discovered Her 
Ladyship's absence from the supper-room, and at 
once dashed out in hot pursuit. Standing against 
the door-post, and curiously gazing through his eye- 
glass at the forlorn lady on the sofa, was a very nice 
and popular A.D.C., the present Duke of Bedford, 
then on the Viceroy's staff. 

Perhaps no past, present, or future Duke has 
heard so much information regarding his duties 
compressed into a few seconds as did His Grace. 

Lord Bill was always a great favourite, particu- 
larly with the Viceroys and Vicereines of India under 
whom he served. 

Probably no Viceroy and his wife have been more 
popular in India than Lord and Lady Dufferin. 
Both were perfectly charming to everyone, and 
each one was made to feel that he or she was a wel- 
come guest. 

One night at a ball, during one of the dances, 
Lord Dufferin, who was prowling about, if one may 
use such a phrase of a Viceroy, espied a young and 
beauteous damsel sitting all by herself in the drawing- 
room, with no attendant swains, and no one to dance 
with. 

Screwing his eyeglass firmly in. Lord Dufferin 
crossed the room and accosted the damsel : 

" Well, my dear, why are you not dancing ? You 
are looking rather sad, and I want everyone to be 
enjoying themselves." 




Tllli MAKi^UESS OK DU FFKK I N ANH A\A 



KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 213 

The damsel was a sister of Rudyard Kipling, and 
of ready wit. 

*' Well, sir, you see I am quite young. I am only 
eighteen. Perhaps when I am forty I shall get some 
partners." 

Lord Dufferin beamed on her in his quiet way, and 
said : 

'' No, my dear, you shall not wait till you are 
forty. You shall dance with me now and at once, 
if you will so far honour me." 

That incident Rudyard Kipling brings into one 
of his poems. For it was a matter of some remark 
in those days that married women, up to any age, 
danced, whilst their daughters sat out. 

Lady Dufferin, besides being most charming, was 
full of common sense and savoir faire. At Simla 
was a lady who had been divorced several times — 
well, once or twice at least — and consequently was 
not eligible to be on the Viceregal Lodge list. The 
United Service Club was giving a ball to which the 
Viceroy and Lady Dufferin were invited, and 
according to the code no lady or gentleman not on 
the Viceregal Lodge list could be asked to meet 
them. Now the lady aforesaid, who perhaps merely 
suffered from too large a heart, had many friends 
who were members of the Club, and who absolutely 
and entirely refused to support or attend the ball 
unless she was invited. This was rather a dilemma, 
and so determined was the feeling that it bid fair 
to wreck the ball, which was really a complimentary 
one to their Excellencies, in return for their many 
hospitalities. 

In this quandary a meeting of the Ball Committee 
was convened, and it was decided that an emissary 
should be sent to the Viceregal Lodge to negotiate. 
Diplomacy is not my line, but in default of a better 
I was sent on this mission. With extraordinary 
craft and subtlety, instead of attacking the main 



214 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

fort out of hand, I laid siege to an outlying picquet, 
and as a result was asked to breakfast with Lady 
Dufferin's sister-in-law, Mrs. Rowan Hamilton. After 
breakfast I disclosed our sad dilemma, and asked 
the kind assistance of my hostess. 

" I'll do what I can. Come back to lunch," she 
said. 

So I came back to lunch and was told privily, and 
for my own information, that Lady Dufferin could 
not possibly see or know all the five hundred guests 
at a ball, and that as long as the lady in question 
did not thrust herself into prominence by entering 
the State Quadrille or something of that sort, there 
was no earthly reason why Her Excellency should 
know whether she was there or not. 

That was a diplomatic decision which was worthy 
of her noble husband, the most distinguished and 
successful Ambassador of his day. 
KWhen George V as Prince of Wales was making 
a tour of India with the Princess, he gave an illus- 
tration that he possesses the great gift of kings, the 
faculty of remembering people's faces. 

Amongst other places, the Royal party visited 
Peshawar. As in duty bound, all the head officials, 
Civil and Military, paraded on the station platform 
to receive their Royal Highnesses. I had nothing 
to do with Peshawar, and was away on manoeuvres 
with my regiment, when I received a wire from 
Sir Harold Deane, a friend of mine and then Chief 
Commissioner of the North-West Frontier, asking 
me to come with my wife to meet their Royal High- 
nesses at dinner at his house. 

Arriving at Peshawar just before the Royal train, 
I was told that I had better stay on the platform 
with the officials, who were there to receive the 
Prince and Princess. There were probably twenty 
of them formed up in a semicircle opposite the strip 
of red carpet, and I was pushed in anywhere. 



KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 215 

The train came in, and preceded by one or two 
of their staff, the Prince and Princess stepped out 
of the carriage. They commenced going round the 
circle from the right, shaking hands with the various 
officials. Then I saw the Prince of Wales glance 
across to the other wing, and as his eye ran along it, 
I heard him say : 

** There is Younghusband over there." For one 
catches one's own name very easily. 

The Princess said, " Where ? " 

"Third from the end," replied H.R.H. And 
when they came round to me, they were most kind. 
Enquired after my wound ; remembered exactly 
where and how it had been received, and, in fact, 
knew more about me than probably half the officials 
on the platform. 

That was really a very marked triumph for even 
a Royal memory, for neither their Royal High- 
nesses, nor anyone in the Royal train, could possibly 
have known that I would be amongst those on the 
Peshawar platform. Nor am I seven feet high, nor 
seven feet round the waist. 

Apropos of this visit to Peshawar, which city is 
known historically as the most turbulent in Upper 
India, in the densely thronged bazaars may be 
seen cut-throats from all Asia : from the trans- 
border tribes, from Kabul, and from all parts of 
Central Asia. Desperate-looking ruffians, many of 
them. The Inspector-General of Police was taking 
no risks, so before their Royal Highnesses arrived 
he, with his police, made a round up of all the 
known desperate criminals, and popped them tem- 
porarily, out of harm's way, into the local gaol. 
Explaining to them with much geniality, that they 
would have free food and lodging there, and would 
also be granted a sumptuary allowance of a shilling 
a day for the few days they were thus resting from 
their labours. The said criminals made no objec- 



2i6 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

tions ; indeed, the more needy hoped that H.R.H. 
would make a prolonged stay in Peshawar. There 
were about two hundred in this round up. H.R.H. 
somehow got wind of this, and one day asked the 
Inspector-General of Police how many bad charac- 
ters he had shut up. 

The Inspector-General of Police pondered deeply 
for some seconds. Then looking straight at H.R.H., 
replied with great deliberation : 

" One, I think, sir." 

The other day, going round the King's stables, 
we came across an old friend, " Delhi," the King's 
charger. When George V came to India as Prince 
of Wales, preparations were made a full year before- 
hand to provide him with a suitable charger. The 
head of the Remount Department in India was 
entrusted with the matter, and no money was to be 
spared. Two really good horses were at length 
obtained and for a year broken in and put through 
a suitable course of training, for it is a nuisance 
when one wants to be doing something, to have 
a horse " arsin' about," as the trooper terms it. 
Just before the Prince arrived, however, a shocking 
catastrophe occurred : one horse died, and the other 
went lame. 

The Indian Government was stirred to its depths, 
and naturally considerably annoyed at this scurvy 
trick on the part of Fate. Telegrams flew from end 
to end of India, searching for a suitable horse ; every 
Rajah's stable was sampled. At the last, out of the 
length and breadth of India, and out of tens of 
thousands of horses, two were selected. One belonged 
to the Viceroy's Bodyguard, and one belonged to 
General Sir John Woon. His Royal Highness liked 
Sir John Woon's horse very much, rode him all the 
time he was in India, and took him home. 

Five or six years later, when George V was King 
and made another visit to India, exactly the same 



KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 217 

catastrophe, as regards horses, occurred. The 
selected and trained chargers again failed the 
Indian Government, death or disease claiming them 
before His Majesty arrived. India was again 
scoured, and at last in desperation a telegram was 
sent to Sir John Woon. 

" Have you by any chance another horse that 
would suit the King as a charger ? " 

Sir John Woon wired back that he had a charger 
which suited him very well, and would gladly send 
it up for trial. Sir John Woon was then stationed 
a thousand miles from Delhi. In due course the 
horse arrived, and proved to be the exact charger 
the King wanted. So he too was ridden by His 
Majesty all the time he was in India, and he too was 
brought home and named " Delhi," and now stands 
in the King's stable, and is constantly ridden by 
him. 

Both these horses were Australians. 

I have never met the German Emperor to speak 
to, but once came across his tracks in rather a 
curious way, which gave a small instance of a very 
curious and complex character. We were attend- 
ing some Cavalry manoeuvres on Salisbury Plain, 
partly for instruction, and partly to give our small 
boy a taste for Cavalry. 

On an off day, having nothing particular to do, 
we decided to go and visit Salisbury Cathedral. 
Driving up close to it we saw a very old arch on 
which was a notice board forbidding motor-cars 
to drive through the arch. We therefore drew up 
outside, and walked in to inspect the Cathedral. 

Having completed our visit we came out, and to 
our horror noticed that during our absence the 
chauffeur had driven the car through the arch and 
drawn it up close to the railings. We also noticed 
he was talking to a policeman ; visions floated 
before us of heavy fines, and we inwardly cursed 



2i8 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

that froward chauffeur. As we approached, how- 
ever, we noticed that the two were in amicable con- 
verse, and grinning broadly. I at once apologised 
to the policeman for the stupidity of our chauffeur. 

" Oh ! that notice don't apply to you, sir ; it's 
only to prevent its being made a thoroughfare : an 
occasional motor like yours don't matter. I was 
just telling your man, the last motor that came 
through that arch was the German Emperor's. 
Hearing who he was from his chauffeur, of course I 
let him through, and the car was drawn up just where 
yours is. Well, the Emperor went in and visited 
the Cathedral, and whilst he was in, it got about 
that the German Emperor was here. So a small 
crowd, mostly boys, collected round the car to see 
him when he came out. After the Emperor had got 
into the car, someone in the crowd said : 

" ' Three cheers for the German Emperor.' 

** So a few boys cheered ; boys is ready to cheer 
anything. 

" The Emperor stood up in the car and took off 
his hat and bowed, and then he made a speech 
something like this : 

" ' Citizens of the town of Salisbury, I have just 
visited your beautiful and ancient cathedral, and 
my only sorrow is that I am not an Englishman that 
I might claim to be a part owner of it.' 

" And, sir," he continued, *' the Emperor got so 
moved with his own words that the tears poured 
down his face. So the boys cheered again, and off 
he drove. Thank you, sir, thank you kindly." 

The old King of Siam was one of the old-fashioned 
sort. He had eight hundred wives, but I am not 
sure whether he followed King Solomon in having 
also eight hundred of the other sort — porcupines, I 
believe schoolboys call them. Nor was any light- 
heartedness permitted unto the eight hundred. 
When I was in Bangkok a page of the palace laid 



KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 219 

siege to one of the outlying wives, and promptly had 
his head cut off, to discourage him from further 
efforts. The lady, too, it was reported, ended her 
days in a sack at the bottom of the Mekong River. 
Rowing up the river, some miles above Bangkok, 
we came to an island on which was built a palace. 
We asked the boatman what it was. 

" That is one of the King's Palaces," he replied, 
" to which His Majesty comes for a few days now 
and then. But it is somewhat wanting in accommo- 
dation, for he can bring only two hundred of his 
wives with him." 

And he sighed gloomily at the unhappy fate of 
the six hundred thus temporarily separated from the 
Sun and Moon and all the Stars of Heaven. 

The eight hundred wives were considered part of 
the King's state, and many of the alliances were 
dynastic, and not very closely connected with the 
beauty or attractions of the lady. Some, too, were 
more hostages than love-birds. Thus the Governor 
of a great province like Zimme would voluntarily, 
or by special request, send one of his daughters to 
be married to the King, as an additional bond of 
allegiance. 

They said the King did not know half his wives 
by sight, but he had undoubtedly to clothe and 
feed them, and it is really rather a terrible thought, 
eight hundred wives running loose at Woolland's, or 
Benoist's, or all wanting stalls at the Opera on the 
same, or even different, nights. 

The Mikado had, I think, just descended to earth 
when we were in Tokio. In ancient days his feet 
were not allowed to touch the earth. But we cer- 
tainly saw him dressed in a French uniform and 
driving in a carriage. He may possibly have been 
lifted into the carriage, but I think the dynasty had 
become so far absolved from ancient regulations as 
to allow of his walking, anyway thus far. The old 



220 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

dual monarchy had just been abohshed where the 
Mikado was the spiritual head and the Shogun the 
de facto ruler. In those days the Mikado was in 
reality a prisoner in his own palace, hedged about 
with spiritual ordinances, such as the one mentioned 
above, that set him up as too holy to put foot on 
this sinful earth. The Shogun, who was a soldier 
and generally a very able one, meanwhile practically 
ruled the country. 

A characteristic of our Royal Family is its natural- 
ness and simplicity. When the Duke and Duchess 
of Connaught were in India they thoroughly enjoyed 
their tour of military service there. 

It was to them an entirely new life, away from 
many of the irksome duties of Royalty in Europe. 
The Duke lived as a plain General of Division, and 
the Duchess as the General's wife. 

This was brought home to me one night when 
passing through Delhi. There was that night one of 
the weekly, or fortnightly, subscription dances. The 
subscription was only Rs.2 (2s. 8d.) a head, and 
ladies free. Only the keenest dancers generally go 
to these, and my hostess being one carried me off in 
her train. Arrived there, we found the dance taking 
place in a large badly lit room, but with a first-class 
small band, and excellent floor. 

There were not more than fifteen couples all told, 
but amongst these, and evidently enjoying them- 
selves greatly, were the Duke and Duchess of 
Connaught. The only difference between the Duke 
and any other General, was that his A.D.C. 
negotiated with the blushing and delighted damsel, 
who was next to have the honour of dancing 
with H.R.H. 

I was standing at the door when the A.D.C. came 
up to a lady next me and said : 

" H.R.H. will have much pleasure in dancing the 
next dance with you." 



KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 221 

" Oh ! but I have got a partner already, and I 
couldn't possibly throw him over. Could I ? " 

" Try," said the A.D.C. with his best smile. 

And she did. 

Whilst the Duke of Connaught was commanding 
the Rawal Pindi Division, an Officer under his com- 
mand earned the Stanhope Gold Medal for saving 
life, the highest distinction the Humane Society can 
award. 

One dark night, walking home from Mess, were 
two Officers of the 45th Sikhs, Captain H. N. McRae 
and Captain H. Holmes. Captain McRae was a 
light-built, wiry Officer, Captain Holmes was a giant, 
of great strength and muscle. As they were walking 
up the road they heard mysterious calls for help, 
and could not at first imagine where they came 
from. 

Then one of them had a brain wave and exclaimed : 

" I believe there is someone down that well." 

Proceeding to the well, which was close to the road- 
side, and leaning over, no doubt was left as to whence 
the calls came. It was the lusty voice of a British 
soldier shouting for succour. 

On every Indian well is a light windlass, by means 
of which an Indian rope, of precarious construction, 
lets down buckets and such-like light articles, where- 
with water is drawn. 

The two Officers consulted together, and as a result 
it was decided that Captain McRae, who was the 
light weight, should be let down into the well by 
means of the aforesaid precarious rope, lowered 
hand over hand by the stalwart Captain Holmes. 
It being quite rightly decided that the windlass, 
being of highly inefficient Indian workmanship 
and material, would undoubtedly break under the 
strain. 

Handsomely Captain McRae was let down, and 
reached the water level safely. There he found a 



222 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

trumpeter of the Royal Artillery clinging on for dear 
life to a protruding brick. 

Sustaining and encouraging the trumpeter, who 
apparently dropped into the well whilst making a 
short cut across the compound and had had therein a 
long and painful experience, Captain McRae shouted 
up to his friend : 

" Do you think you can draw us both up ? The 
man's insensible." 

** Yes, I think so," was the cheery reply of the 
giant on top, " if the bally old rope will stand it. 
Anyway, let's try." 

So Captain McRae bound and clasped the trum- 
peter to his bosom, and shouted : 

" Righto ! heave all." 
t Captain Holmes was a very powerful man indeed, 
a hero amongst the Sikhs on account of his magnifi- 
cent physique and herculean strength. But he had 
several things against him, the most potent being 
a rotten rope meant only for buckets of water, and 
further, having no pulley or even smooth surface 
to pull it over. Only the rough brick edge of the 
well. 

As far as strength went he was equal to the task, 
and by colossal effort pulled two full-grown English- 
men, and one a trumpeter in the Royal Artillery, 
some way up. The well was eighty-eight feet deep, 
with twelve feet of water in it. Then unfortunately 
came a weak part of a weak rope against the sharp 
edge of the well, with the result that it snapped. 
A resounding smack on the water announced the 
fact, whilst Captain Holmes naturally took a somer- 
sault backwards. 

Nothing discouraged, the broken end was let down, 
and Captain McRae, fishing up his broken end, tied 
the two together, and another strenuous effort was 
made by Captain Holmes. But again the rope 
broke, and the two soused down again into the 



KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 223 

water. I forget how many times the effort was re- 
newed, and with one man at a time, but even then 
the rope broke. Captain Holmes, therefore, first 
shouting words of encouragement down the well, 
dashed off to find another rope. Ropes and bits of 
string and other necessaries of life are easily to 
hand when not wanted. But in the middle of 
the night in a large Cantonment, one may find 
the right article at once, or not do so till next 
morning. 

Captain Holmes' luck, like that of most brave 
men, was in, and he found the rope. Some say it 
was the tug-of-war rope lying on a neighbouring 
parade ground, and some say it was a twisted com- 
bination of neighbouring tent ropes. Anyway, he 
got it in time, and let it down. 

" All right below there ? " he shouted. 

" Yes, old boy, but be quick. The gunner is 
heavy as lead. I think he has fainted." 

By this time servants from the neighbouring 
house, and stray passers-by, had collected, so the 
haulage power was safe. 

'' Tie the gunner on first. Sailor knot and no 
damn granny, and we'll have him up in a jiffy, and 
then you too." 

But Captain McRae, in the deep dark of that well, 
finding the trumpeter insensible, could not manage 
this. The only way was again to support the 
trumpeter and go up together. 

Thus at last they were drawn to the surface, an 
insensible trumpeter and a very gallant Officer and 
gentleman. 

The Duke of Connaught recommended both Officers 
for the Humane Society's Medal, which in due course 
they received. 

At the end of the year the Royal Humane Society 
decides which is the most gallant act of the year, 
and for it bestows the Stanhope Gold Medal. The 



224 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

Gold Medal for that year went most rightly to Captain 
McRae. 

Another Gold Medal won by a soldier was that of 
Captain Scrase-Dickins of the Highland Light In- 
fantry. 

He was voyaging home from India on sick leave 
on board the P. and O. mailboat. And besides 
being an invalid, he was feeling not very well owing 
to the roughness of the sea. The ship was then 
running up the Red Sea, and Captain Scrase- 
Dickins was lying more or less hors de combat on a 
long chair on deck. 

A cry arose, " Man overboard," and weak and ill 
as he was, Scrase-Dickins at once rose and dived 
overboard into a very nasty sea. Talking to the 
captain of the ship afterwards, he said that there 
was really little more than a dog's chance of picking 
up a man in a sea like that. It was not a sea moun- 
tains high, but a nasty choppy sea, bad for boats, 
and wherein it was exceedingly difficult to distinguish 
a man's head. Moreover, the mailboat was running 
at full speed, and a big ship gets a lot of way on her 
and takes a lot of stopping. 

But once again fortune favoured the brave, and 
both Captain Scrase-Dickins and the man he rescued 
were picked up, to the great relief and joy of the 
passengers. 

For this signal act of bravery and devotion Cap- 
tain Scrase-Dickins received the Silver Medal of the 
Royal Humane Society, and later the Gold Medal 
for the bravest act of the year. 

However, we have rather wandered away from 
the rulers of the world, and will return via Mr. 
Roosevelt. We had a good many opportunities of 
meeting the late President of the United States and of 
hearing him speak, and he most kindly asked us to 
stay with him at Oyster Bay. We were greatly and 
favourably impressed with Mr. Roosevelt, an honest, 



KING EDWARD AND OTHER RULERS 225 

strenuous man, with the eyes and views of a world- 
wide statesman. He could look beyond the coasts 
of America. For, curiously enough, though America 
is territorially a large country, the views of a very 
large section are distinctly limited. As an instance of 
Mr. Roosevelt's wide views ; he was telling us that 
during the Boer War a Boer delegation came to 
America to ask for mediation. 

The delegates came to see him and ask for his 
support, and his answer was in some such words as 
these : 

" Though I am a Dutchman myself, for my ances- 
tors only came to America eighty-three years ago, 
as such you have my sympathy. And also because 
one always from a sporting feeling backs the little 
one against the big one, yet I consider that it is 
for the good of South Africa that Anglo-Saxon rule 
should predominate there. Therefore I myself 
would not raise a finger to prevent it." 

Mr. Roosevelt is a great believer in the Anglo- 
Saxon race, and the English language, as most 
wholesome factors in the government of the world. 

He is equally averse to the Germans and to Teu- 
tonic influences. At one of his big public meetings 
at Buffalo he took as his text the Monroe Doctrine, 
and was very emphatic and eloquent on the point 
that no European Power should have a footing on 
the American Continent. Our American friends 
kept nudging us during the speech, and whispering 
facetious remarks in all good humour. 

That evening, talking to Mr. Roosevelt with 
reference to his great speech, I mentioned that the 
British already owned as much or more territory on 
the American Continent as the United States them- 
selves. 

" Quite so," said Mr. Roosevelt. " I wasn't 
talking about the past, I was talking about the 
future. I was talking at the Germans, and I was 



226 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

talking straight. They are trying to get a footing 
over here and we won't have it. Now, WiUiam is a 
very worthy young man, but he is too hot-headed. 
That is about the size of it, and we want to put 
a stop at once, and firmly, to any of his projects over 
on this Continent.'' 

Mr. Roosevelt was a great President and worthy 
ruler of a great nation, and many of us who are 
friends of America regret that he is not their ruler 
now. Theie would have been no submarine out- 
rages or Belgian atrocities, we think, if he had been. 
America need not have gone to war, but as head of 
a great confederacy of neutral countries she could 
have taken a strong and commanding position, and 
insisted that the ordinary rules of civilised warfare 
were observed. The Germans would have climbed 
down to that at once. 



CHAPTER XV 

LORD ROBERTS, LORD KITCHENER, AND OTHER 
GENERALS 

Lord Roberts — A Very Great Man — His Courage — 70 Years Old in 
the Boer War — His Final and Great Effort — Lies in St. Paul's 
with Nelson and Wellington — Contrast between Lord Roberts 
and Lord Kitchener — Both Great Soldiers — Lord Roberts's 
Kindness and Consideration — Wonderful Memory — Thought for 
the Bereaved — Lord Kitchener's Disapproval — Burying the 
Hatchet — First Meeting with Lord Kitchener — -His Escape 
from the Boers — Egypt his Monument — Lord Cromer's Influence 
— Lord Kitchener's Power of Intuition — Lord Wolseley in the 
Soudan — A Great Reformer^" Political Generals" — Keeping 
before the Public — The Shower of Medals— A Pint of 'Arf and 
'Arf— The Debt of the Army to Lord Wolseley — Sir Horace 
Smith-Dorrien — A Born Leader of Men — Mons and Le Cateau — 
SirW. Penn Symons — His Toasts — Sir Douglas Haig — As a Fag at 
Clifton — As I.-G. of Cavalry — Sir William Robertson — His First 
Commission — Work at Simla — The Staff College — The Brain of 
the Army — ^Two Anonymous Generals — The FlagstafE at 
Umballa — The Battle of the Standard — A Pusillanimous Staff 
Officer — The Heroic Garrison Engineer — The Triumph of the 
Lady— Sir Edmund Barrow — ^Sir James Willcocks — General 
Bannatine-AUason 

LORD ROBERTS was a very great soldier, 
who will in history be placed alongside 
■J Marlborough and Wellington. He was 
one of the bravest and most stout-hearted Generals 
Great Britain has produced, possessing also a 
personal magnetism which, by securing the devoted 
attachment of the soldiers, added greatly to his 
military value. His march to Kabul in 1879 and 
the battle of Charasiah was one of the finest feats 
of his career, or in history, and far eclipsed his 
better-known march from Kabul to Kandahar. 
Again shut up in Sherpur in deep snow, surrounded 

227 



228 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

by immensely superior numbers of Afghans, cut 
off from India 170 miles distant, his heart never 
failed for a moment. He was as brave and strong 
as ever, and, defeating the encircling hordes, emerged 
victorious. 

At the age of seventy and when most men are 
past activity, when the horizon was darkest in 
South Africa, he took command, and at once the 
sun shone and the tide turned. His strategy and 
tactics were of the highest, and had it been possible 
to drop the curtain, and leave the War to Lord 
Roberts and the soldiers, it would have been over 
in a year. But poHtical considerations of the very 
weightiest description, and which have since proved 
most sound, intervened, and thus the war became 
a lengthy one of attrition. In his later life, relieved 
of active command. Lord Roberts spent those years 
of rest he had so nobly earned in a strenuous and 
unremitting effort to rouse his countrymen to the 
German danger, endeavouring with all the weight 
of his great name to induce the politicians of both 
Parties to sink their parochial differences and to 
unite in an effort of foresight and preparation. Per- 
haps that was the noblest effort of a noble life. 

Had Lord Kitchener, when he returned from 
India, joined Lord Roberts in this patriotic crusade 
there is little doubt that success would have crowned 
the strenuous and prolonged efforts of the National 
Service League. 

In St. Paul's Cathedral Lord Roberts now lies 
in the sublime company of England's greatest sons. 
And beside are Nelson and Wellington, making thus 
an heroic trio who have deserved well of the Empire 
which they served so well. 

There could be no greater contrast between two 
men than between Lord Roberts and Lord Kitchener. 
Their personality, methods, and manners were en- 
tirely dissimilar. Yet they both rose to be great 



LORD ROBERTS AND LORD KITCHENER 229 

soldiers. Lord Roberts was the modern Bayard, 
Chevalier sans peur et sans reproche. Lord Kitchener 
was fashioned more on the Hnes of Bismarck. Both 
were born British, but one developed into the 
highest type of English gentleman, the other 
acquired more Teutonic characteristics. It would 
therefore be somewhat difficult for an honest 
admirer of Lord Roberts to be an equally honest 
admirer of Lord Kitchener. 

Of Lord Roberts everyone who came in contact 
with him has delightful reminiscences. He had the 
kindest and largest heart in the world and never 
forgot anybody ; but at the same time he was the 
hardest and flintiest of disciplinarians when occasion 
required. We who served with him in Kabul, and 
in India, can well recall that essential trait. It is 
nearly forty years ago, but I remember exactly first 
meeting Lord Roberts. 

The garrison at Kabul after the siege of Sherpur 
was paraded for the distribution of rewards for 
gallantry to the soldiers. I was then in The Guides, 
and the Infantry of that Corps was drawn up in 
quarter column, and right behind the rearmost line 
the last joined subaltern was standing. Lord 
Roberts came along the front of the regiment, stood 
a few seconds and glanced over it, and in rear of 
those eight hundred men at once noticed a new 
Officer. 

" Who is that new Officer ? " he asked the Colonel. 

" That's Younghusband, just joined from the 17th 
Foot." 

" Call him up, I should like to make his acquaint- 
ance." 

So I was hustled forth by the Adjutant, and 
stood before the great man. 

" How do you do ? Glad to meet you. You are 
a lucky young fellow to have joined such a splendid 
regiment. Good-bye, good luck." 



230 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

And from that day forth he never failed to recog- 
nise me under the most unhkely conditions. Here 
is one instance. One day, not long before the Great 
War, I was standing looking into Asprey's window. 
Reflected in the glass I noticed passing me a gentle- 
man in a top-hat. I did not look round, and was 
continuing to gaze at the enticing and opulent things 
in the window, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. 

" Hullo ! Younghusband. How are you ? " 

It was Lord Roberts, and he had not seen me for 
seven years, and had not a notion I was in England ! 

But he went one better than that. 

" How are the old Guides ? Going strong as 
ever ? By the way, did you win the Regimental 
Tournament ? I saw you got through the semi- 
finals." 

Lord Roberts not only recognised an officer in 
the street after seven years, but recollected his 
regiment, and even that it had recently been playing 
in a Polo Tournament ! 

Another instance of Lord Roberts's wonderful 
memory and kindness of heart occurred during the 
Boer War. My brother-in-law, Gordon Wood, was 
killed in action. How Lord Roberts remembered 
that my wife's maiden name was Wood, and that 
Gordon was her brother, was wonderful ; but that 
he should, amidst the enormous work and responsi- 
bilities of a great campaign, have found time to 
think of the bereaved, was even a greater tribute to 
his marvellous kindness and sympathy. I happened 
to be in England at the time mending up a wound, 
and Lord Roberts sent me a personal wire conveying 
the sad intelligence, and asking me to break it to his 
old father before he could see it in the papers. 

Lord Roberts's telegram arrived in time, just 
beating the newspapers by an hour, and not only 
softened the blow, but was a wonderful consolation 
to Gordon Wood's father and sisters. 




Illioil &■ Fi 
THK I.\rK lORIi K lie I IK NICK AS A MA.I<tk IN KCVrr IN 1 884 



LORD ROBERTS AND LORD KITCHENER 231 

Of Lord Kitchener there are many anecdotes, 
but these may well be left to his biographer. For 
many years he highly disapproved of me, probably 
because I did not see eye to eye with him in India, 
and he could not tolerate anyone disagreeing with 
him. But the hatchet was completely buried one 
day just before the Great War, at Welbeck. The 
Duke of Portland was giving a big lunch at which 
Lord Kitchener was present and so was I. Before 
lunch. Lord Kitchener was seen pushing his way 
through a crowd of distinguished guests, and every- 
one looked to see what he was aiming at. I was 
at the moment looking the other way, talking to a 
lady, when I heard someone say, " How do you do, 
Younghusband ? " 

I turned round, and there was Lord Kitchener 
with his hand out. 

What he said is not the least concern to any- 
one else ; but it buried the hatchet there and 
then. 

My first meeting with Lord Kitchener was on 
the field of battle in South Africa. De Wet had 
captured the best part of a Militia regiment at 
Roodeval, and Lord Methuen was trying to retrieve 
the prisoners. The Infantry of the pursuit came 
up against a long line of kopjes strongly held, and 
Lord Methuen told me to take my regiment, the 
3rd Imperial Yeomanry, and see what could be done. 
Finding the Infantry still held up, we trotted round 
the left flank, and after going through a pretty 
heavy fire found ourselves in flank and rear of the 
kopjes, and with the Boer ponies in full view. 

We had just dismounted to fire on the Boers, 
when several shrapnel fell amongst us, one shell 
alone accounting for eleven casualties. Thinking 
perhaps the shells might be from our own gunners, 
I sent the Adjutant off to warn our Artillery of our 
position. On his way back he was hailed by " a 



232 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

big red-faced man, don't know who he is," who 
asked him who he was. 

" Tell your CO. to go and take those wagons 
lying out there." 

Being under Lord Methuen's orders I sent the 
Adjutant back to ask who the big red-faced man was. 
He returned to say it was Lord Kitchener, who was 
looking on at the battle. 

Our next meeting with Lord Kitchener was on 
the occasion when he was very nearly taken prisoner 
by the Boers. This also was near Roodeval on the 
Rhenoster River. We were in laager near the rail- 
way line, and Lord Kitchener's special train was 
halted for the night on the line not very far off. 
In the night the Boers, seeing a seemingly unpro- 
tected train on the line, attacked it, little knowing 
who was in it. The train was riddled with bullets, 
but Lord Kitchener and his Staff happily escaped, 
and came back along the line on foot to the nearest 
laager. 

Lord Kitchener's name and fame will in history 
not be mainly connected with South Africa or 
India or even the Great War, but with Egypt. 
There he was undoubtedly a great man, a great 
administrator, ruler, and soldier. He had been there 
the greater part of his career, knew the people and 
local conditions thoroughly, and had learnt from 
his great predecessor. Lord Cromer, how to govern 
and deal with them. 

Lord Kitchener had a power of intuition pos- 
sessed by few men, but by many women. A woman 
will express a decided opinion on some subject, or 
concerning some person. She can give no reason for 
her verdict and perhaps has no special knowledge, 
but she intuitively feels she is right, and very often 
is. In the same way Lord Kitchener would order a 
thing to be done, which might appear quite im- 
possible ; he could not perhaps explain how it was 



LORD ROBERTS AND LORD KITCHENER 233 

to be done, but intuitively he seemed to see the job 
accompHshed, and it generally was. Whether his 
intuition was always rightly directed is another 
matter. 

As illustrating this faculty Sir George Gorringe, 
who had served much under Lord Kitchener in 
Egypt, gave me one of his experiences. 

Lord Kitchener sent for him one day, and open- 
ing out a map, said : " You are to make a railway 
(or it may have been a canal) from here to here," 
pointing at the map. 

Sir George took the map away, and, after study- 
ing the question carefully, came to the conclusion 
that the project was not feasible. Knowing Lord 
Kitchener he did not, however, raise difficulties, but 
went back to him and asked his advice, as a brother 
sapper, as to how the scheme was to be executed. 

" I haven't the remotest notion," replied His 
Lordship ; " that's your job. Get along and 
do it." 

And curiously enough, though Lord Kitchener 
was a Royal Engineer himself of much experience, 
and did not know himself how to execute the 
order, yet it proved to be possible, and Sir George 
Gorringe, after overcoming great diificulties, accom- 
plished the task. 

Lord Wolseley was another great soldier of the 
Victorian era, under whom we had the honour of 
serving in the Soudan. In those days there was 
supposed to be great rivalry between Lord Wolseley 
and Lord Roberts. Lord Wolseley had long been 
dubbed by the Press as " our only General," but 
when Lord Roberts emerged triumphant from the 
Afghan War he came to be known as " our only 
other General." The Wolseleyites, as they were 
called, did not like this ; and we who had served 
under Lord Roberts did not like the Wolseleyites. 
There seemed to be too much writing and pro- 



234 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

fessional pushing about it to appeal to the modest 
soldier ; and some people were inclined quite wrongly 
to dub Lord Wolseley as a " political General." 
That was a new phrase in those days. As rather a 
cynical gentleman put it : " Once you become a 
General, never care a dam' about the War Office, 
or Selection Boards. Keep in with the politicians 
and you will be all right." 

The last fifteen years have perhaps been not 
altogether without examples of the mundane wisdom 
of this advice. But it does not seem quite right 
somehow. 

I only met Lord Wolseley once or twice during 
the campaign, and generally there was a newspaper 
correspondent on the near horizon. For Lord 
W^olseley was quite frank about keeping before the 
public. One day he overtook a convoy of which I 
had charge. 

" Who is in command here ? " with a smart snap. 

" I am, sir." 

" How many camels have you ? " 

" Five hundred, sir." 

" Why do you marshal them like that ? " 

" Because it is the best way of getting through 
the bush, sir." 

And so on for five or ten minutes. All of which 
appeared under one of those painful headings, which 
the Press uses to tickle the public. 

Lord Wolseley was the man who first started 
the shower of modern medals. He used to say that 
lots of medals made a man feel brave, though he 
may never have seen a shot fired ; and, moreover, 
impressed others, made the Service popular, and 
attracted recruits. 

Consequently for the Egyptian War of 1882 two 
medals were issued, and so wide and generous was 
the distribution that even the stewards on the 
ships, and soldiers who had never set foot in Egypt 




KEY. j. \V. ADAMS, V.C 
From a pliotograf'h taken ivltcit lit' lind just rixeivcd the Victoria Cross, Kahiil, jSjg 



LORD ROBERTS AND LORD KITCHENER 235 

received both. Indeed, one Officer who though 
originally ordered to Egypt, had never left Rawal 
Pindi in India, got two medals, two Orders, and a 
brevet ! Naturally he returned these, but that was 
the spirit of the new era. 

This profusion led incidentally to a somewhat 
serious riot at Gibraltar, where there were stationed 
together two regiments, one of which was covered 
with Egyptian medals, earned on board ship in 
Alexandria harbour, a hundred miles from any 
fighting, whilst the other had none. 

One night into the canteen of the be-medalled 
regiment came a full private of the non-medalled 
regiment. 

Tapping the counter smartly, he, in a loud and 
commanding voice, ordered : 

" Here, barman ! A pint of 'arf and 'arf. Egyptian 
Medals an' Stars." 

" Belts off and give 'im 'ell," shouted someone. 

So off came the belts, which were used in those 
days as a very hefty offensive weapon in a street 
row, and the battle began. From small beginnings 
it grew to greater, till at last the best part of the 
two regiments were engaged in deadly strife over 
that pint of 'arf and 'arf. 

Lord Wolseley's great claim to distinction lies 
in his initiation of the principle that hard study 
and hard work are absolutely essential for a modern 
Officer. And that it is quite possible to be good at 
polo, or cricket, and also to pass through the Staff 
College. 

Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien is a stage senior to me, 
but we have often met, and served together. We 
just overlapped on the Staff at Umballa under Sir W. 
Penn Symons, and next trekked together under 
Lord Methuen in South Africa. He always im- 
pressed one, not only as a scientific Staff College 
trained soldier, but as a born leader of men. There 



236 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

are many exceedingly clever and exceedingly well- 
read soldiers, but they are no leaders of men. They 
lack an indefinable attribute which curiously enough 
no man seems to be able to acquire. It is born with 
some, through perhaps many generations of ances- 
tors ; others are bom without it, and never acquire 
it. Sir Horace is one of the few happy possessors of 
this invaluable asset to a Commander. It was 
noticeable when he commanded his Brigade in South 
Africa, his Division in India, and still more markedly 
in the great retreat from Mons, and the battle of 
Le Cateau. 

I forget whether Sir Horace was on Sir W. Penn 
Symons's Staff when he was given a little cup by 
the Staff. Every night of his life he used to 
drink a toast. These were : 

Monday — Our Men. 
Tuesday — Our Women. 
Wednesday — Our Swords. 
Thursday — Ourselves. 
Friday — Our Religions. 

Saturday — Sweethearts and Wives (and he would 
add gravely, " May they never meet "). 
Sunday — Absent Friends. 

On the little cup these toasts were inscribed. 

Sir Penn told us that these were the toasts always 
drunk nightly, after "The King," by the Duke of 
Wellington, during the Peninsular War. 

Here are one or two early recollections of Sir 
Douglas Haig. Firstly, a nice-looking, clean little 
boy, in an Eton jacket and collar, walking up the 
aisle of the Chapel at Chfton College. Next, the 
same boy, standing with his back to the chapel wall 
as a cricket fag, whilst one of the XI was having 
his practice at the XI net. From that day forth 
we never met till Sir Douglas was a Major-General 
and Inspector-General of Cavalry in India. And 




GENKRAL SIR IIORACK SMITH-DOR K 1 KN. (OMMANDKl) A BRIC.ADK IN TH K 
BOKK WAK, 1899 — 02 



LORD ROBERTS AND LORD KITCHENER 237 

there the roles were reversed, for whereas in old 
days it was open to me to kick a fag if he didn't do 
his job properly, it was now open to Sir Douglas to 
kick me, being only the Colonel of a regiment ! As 
he came forward to meet me, even after all those 
years, at once to be recognised was the clean, nice- 
looking boy, in the Eton jacket and collar. 

I have often wondered since whether I ever really 
did kick Sir Douglas when he was a fag at Clifton, 
but certainly cannot remember having done so. 

Working in the office of the Intelligence Branch 
at Simla, I first met Sir William Robertson. He 
had recently been promoted from the ranks, and 
was then a Second Lieutenant. An extraordinarily 
hard-working and zealous Officer, he struck one 
then, but never in the wildest imaginings of anyone, 
certainly not in Sir William's own modest dreams, 
did we see before us the great brain that was to 
direct a European War. One day in office he 
remarked : 

" I have no friends or interest, and not a bob in 
the world ; and what becomes of me after this job 
is over God only knows." 

For many years I neither heard of him, nor saw 
him, but one day in the Mess picked up an official 
magazine and therein read his opening, or closing, 
address to the students at the Staff College. It was 
one of the finest pieces of instructional oratory that 
has ever been delivered. 

That stamped the man. One who could educate 
himself up to delivering a lecture like that, before 
undoubtedly the most critical military audience in 
England, must be a great man. 

But there is a considerable gulf between a great 
lecturer and the man who can perform what he 
lectures. And that gulf Sir William Robertson has 
bridged. 

I have never met Sir William to speak to since 



2^.8 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 



'J 



early Simla days, but happened to sit behind him 
in the Distinguished Strangers' Gallery when Mr. 
Lloyd George was making his great speech on 
taking up the Premiership. Sir William's back looked, 
as of old, a strong and strenuous back, and set on it 
is a good, square, honest, British head, such as is 
wanted to see us through the Great War. 

Rather a shocking affair occurred at Umballa a 
year or so before the Boer War. The General was 
ordered off to command a Division in the Tirah 
Campaign, and another General was sent to take 
his place at Umballa. Both Generals were married. 
At Umballa, as in most Indian stations which are 
the headquarters of Divisions or Brigades, there is 
one house which is ear-marked as the General's 
house, and has been occupied by one after another 
for generations. In front of the General's house is 
a flagstaff on which flies the Union Jack, when the 
General is in residence. At Umballa this was a 
particularly imposing affair, not a single mast, but 
one with a platform about twelve feet up and then 
another mast on up from that ; the whole thing 
having the appearance of the mainmast of a large 
sailing ship. 

When the General went to Tirah he left his wife 
in the General's house. And when the new General 
arrived with his wife they went to an hotel, and 
waited for the lady in possession to turn out. After 
a week or so it became perfectly evident that the 
former General's wife had no intention whatever of 
turning out, for she had not even commenced to 
pack or remove her furniture. The flagstaff stood 
before the door, but, of course, no Union Jack could 
fly from it, and no sentry paced up and down outside. 

So the new General told the C.R.E. to put up a 
small pole before his door, and flew the Union Jack 
from that. Then he came to me who happened to 
be one of his Staff Officers and said : 



LORD ROBERTS AND LORD KITCHENER 239 

" You must turn that woman out. That's my 
house, and she has no right to keep me out of it." 

Now I am fairly brave, as men go, but the bare 
thought of tackhng my late General's wife made me 
feel exceedingly unwell. 

" She must be out by the end of the week," added 
the new General. 

Having lunched carefully and well, and topped it 
up with a large glass of No. i Port, I took the 
remnants of my courage in one hand and a large 
bunch of roses (the only ones in the place) in the 
other, marched heroically over to the General's 
house, and found Her Ladyship in. Smoothing the 
way a little with the roses, we got insensibly on to 
the subject of vases to put them in ; and so on from 
one thing to another, till we arrived at the size of 
rooms and of houses ; and then of this room, and 
this house. 

" You must feel quite lost in a huge drawing- 
room like this," solicitously. 

" Oh ! No. I love big rooms. I just roam about 
in them. I like feeling spacious." 

** Yes, quite so. Just a nice drawing-room, and 
dining-room, and bedroom. But this huge house 
and all these spare rooms ? " 

" I know exactly what you are at," smiled the lady 
sweetly. ** You've come from those people to try 
and turn me out. Not if I know it, dear boy, and 
you may tell them so flat. Here I am, and here I 
am going to remain." 

It was an exceedingly sad-faced Staff-Officer who 
went back with this ultimatum to his new General. 

" Won't turn out, won't she, damn her ? Paid 
the rent, and can't be ? Well, anyway, I'll have 
that flagstaff. Have it dug up and planted opposite 
my quarters." 

This was indeed terrible ; but even the greatest 
coward has to obey orders. I thought, however, I 



240 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

would break the matter gently, and, happening to 
dance with Her Ladyship that evening, I mentioned 
artlessly that a great bare flagstaff in front of her 
door was a terrible eyesore ; and, besides, with its 
guy ropes and stays it took up a lot of room. Might 
almost make another lawn-tennis lawn if it is 
removed. 

" ril just have it taken down for you, and put 
my mail on to turf the place over and make quite a 
nice lawn of it." 

" If you dare touch that flagstaff I'll never speak 
to you again," said the lady with much emphasis. 

It was then that the craft they inculcate into you 
at the Staff College, tact they call it, came in. 

Next day I sent for the Garrison Engineer, and 
said unto him : 

'' Look here, Appletart, my boy, you know that 
flagstaff on the General's lawn. Well, it's got to be 
removed, and it's your job as Garrison Engineer to 
do so." 

He also was a brave man, but he turned pale. 

" Those are the General's orders, my son, and 
you've jolly well got to obey them. But, look here, 
don't make a fuss and worry in the daytime, with 
all your beastly coolies yelling and shouting. Just 
go in the middle of the night and dig up the blessed 
thing. And if you or your men make a sound to 
disturb Her Ladyship, I'll kill the lot of you." 

The Garrison Engineer went off like the young 
man who once had great possessions. 

My house was next door, but not a sound did I 
hear all night, and was feeling rather afraid that the 
Garrison Engineer's heart had failed him. But it 
was all right in the morning, the flagstaff was gone. 

Then I went on three days' leave, just to soften 
the blow. 

On my return the very first person I ran into was 
Her Ladyship, simply beaming. 



LORD ROBERTS AND LORD KITCHENER 241 

" I am awfully sorry " I began. 

" Sorry ? Rot ! Haven't you heard ? " 

My heart sank within me, but not before it had 
heartily cursed the Garrison Engineer. He had 
evidently made a mess of it. 

" No. What ? " in a faint, far voice. 

" Why it's simply splendid ! Some horrible 
person, the General himself probably, came in the 
middle of the night and dug up the flagstaff, but it 
was rotten with age and broke off short ! But they 
have planted it, as it is, before the new General's 
door, and it looks too funny for words. I drive 
round that way every day of my life, and laugh till 
I cry. You are really not such a bad old thing after 
all. Come to lunch." 

Driving past the transplanted flagstaff it really 
was a sad affair. It looked like the jurymast on a 
wreck, with a signal of distress flying from it. 

Sir Edmund Barrow was one of those who, in 
very good company, fell under Lord Kitchener's 
displeasure. There is little doubt that Lord 
Kitchener at one time was a little spoilt by the 
Press and Public, and could brook no views or 
opinions, however sound, opposed to his own. He 
used to openly remark that apparently he could do 
no wrong, and that he meant to take advantage of 
this excellent state of affairs as long as it lasted. 
But he always added, I know they will round on 
me some day like they did on Lord Roberts. Lord 
Kitchener commenced his campaign in India by 
objecting to the powers which the Military Depart- 
ment had gradually usurped, at the expense of the 
Commander-in-Chief. There was a good deal in this 
argument, and he gained his point. 

Encouraged by this success he next attacked the 
Military Member of Council, and succeeded in 
getting him abolished, and his Department reduced, 
and recast, and placed under the Commander-in- 



242 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

Chief — instead of being independent, and under the 
Viceroy. Having got so far Lord Kitchener looked 
for the next stronghold to attack, which happened 
to be the Viceroy himself. It soon, then, became a 
plain question for the Government at home to 
decide, whether the Viceroy or Lord Kitchener was 
to be supported. The Government supported Lord 
Kitchener, and consequently the Viceroy, Lord 
Curzon, resigned. 

Sir Edmund Barrow was one of the high officials 
in the crumbling Military Department, whose allegi- 
ance was directly due to the Viceroy. Lord 
Kitchener offered to make him Chief-of-the-Staff, 
Lord Curzon offered to make him head of the 
reconstructed Military Department. Sir Edmund 
Barrow never received either appointment. Lord 
Kitchener appointed another Chief-of-the-Staff and 
insisted himself on nominating the head of the 
reconstructed Military Department, though that 
official had always been designedly not under the 
Commander-in-Chief's patronage, or in his gift. 

However, Sir Edmund Barrow, being a soldier of 
high attainments and much experience, weathered 
the storm and afterwards, in due course, commanded 
a Division and an Army with conspicuous ability, 
and is now a member of the India Council. 

Sir James Willcocks is one of those who has made 
his way to the front in a remarkable manner. We 
were at Sandhurst at the same time and have 
done much soldiering together in many parts of 
the world. Sir James was a very bright, good-looking 
boy, and " caught on " at once. He always took 
great care from the very beginning that any job 
he was put to was well done. He put his whole 
heart into it. Most of his earlier campaigns were 
served in the Transport Department, and his great 
pride in the turn out and condition of his mules was 
a revelation, in days when pack transport was 



LORD ROBERTS AND LORD KITCHENER 243 

rather a hand-to-mouth affair. As a commander 
of troops Sir James first came to notice in the 
successful Ashantee Campaign^ which was being 
carried on at the same time as the Boer War. 

Later he was made famous by Punch with a 
cartoon entitled " Willcocks' Week-end Wars." 
This was in compliment to the manner in which 
two very quickly and well-managed expeditions 
across the Indian Frontier, which Sir James 
Willcocks commanded, were brought to a speedy 
and successful conclusion. 

I was negotiating once with General Bannatine- 
Allason about the purchase of a horse for my wife, 
and wrote to ask him whether it carried a lady. To 
this he replied : 

" I bought the horse from Major Smith {nom de 
plume), and I saw his wife riding it frequently. 
I know nothing about Mrs. Smith — except that 
Major Smith dislikes her intensely." 

General Bannatine-AUason, as a Major, taught me 
my work as an amateur gunner when attached to 
his Battery. He was the smartest of Battery-Com- 
manders, and a real good soldier, as he proved 
in South Africa. 

In concluding this chapter it may perhaps be 
mentioned that it does not profess to be a treatise 
on British Generals, but merely some casual remarks 
about those whom the writer has been privileged to 
meet, and many of whom have been his friends. 



CHAPTER XVI 

THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 

The Frontier Officer — Not Easily Taken Aback in Sudden Emer- 
gency — A Tragedy of Three — Major Dodd — In Daily Peril — 
Capt. Butler of The Guides- — The Khattuk Dance — Shot from 
Behind — Murderer Hanged — Major Dodd and Capt. Brown 
Homeward Bound — Shot by his Orderly — Pursuit of Murderer 
— Lieut. Hickie's Gallantry — Eight Killed or Wounded — A 
Snapshot Ends the Fight — The Deputy-Commissioner holds a 
Jirgah — Raiders Reported — Ransoms — Their Use and Abuse — 
In Hot Pursuit — Skilled Trackers — Cavalry Cover 80 Miles — 
Gang Run to Earth — A Night Watch^The Gang Accounted 
For — Another Raid — Cavalry and Infantry Start — Terrorised 
Villagers — In the Village Mosque — Surrounding the Raiders — 
Fierce Fight in the Night — Raiders Break Out — Christmas Eve — 
A Midnight Call — The Major's Lady — The Squadron Starts 
— Surrounding the Village — A Brief Encounter — A Casualty — 
Nearing Home — The Lady and the Dog — A Simple Grave in the 
East 

IN the course of a long life on the Frontiers of 
India one learns much and sees much. There 
on the confines of our Empire is to be found 
at his best the Englishman who has built it and 
guards it. He has not the least self-consciousness, 
he poses neither as a hero, a martyr, nor a swash- 
buckler. He is just the simple gentleman, brave, 
honest, and cheerful, taking things as they come, 
such as we like to picture the British Officer. 

Year in and year out they live in a constant 
state of war, or preparation for war. Their vigilance 
must never relax, and in time grows into a habit of 
life. " They are not easily taken aback in sudden 
emergency," as Sir Harry Lumsden expressed it. 
On one part of the Frontier on which the writer 

244 



THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 245 

was recently stationed there were 165 raids made 
into British territory in the course of the year by 
the trans-border tribesmen ; and each and all of 
these had to be met and dealt with. They were 
mostly small cattle-lifting raids, or to loot travellers 
or open villages, but they were made by armed 
marauders of desperate character and great hardi- 
hood, and required hard fighting and tremendous 
marching to deal with them. 

Yet rarely do we hear of these outside the little 
circle on the Frontier, and medals and rewards 
rarely reach these hardy warriors. It is possible to 
serve for thirty years on the Frontier, it is possible 
to be in a dozen fights in as many months, and 
yet to leave the service without a single medal. 

But, apart from open fighting, the British Officer 
on the Frontier runs a perennial risk in other ways, 
as may be gathered from an incident which occurred 
on the Mahsud-Waziri border, just before the Great 
War broke out. 

My first encounter with Major Dodd was the 
result of a message from which it appeared that he 
and Captain Butler were closely besieged in Sarwekai 
Fort in Waziristan, and that a speedy relief was 
essential. The relief took place with due celerity after 
a sixty-mile march, and I was sitting by the road- 
side whilst the leading regiment completed the 
work in hand, when a great burly figure came riding 
by on a small pony. 

" Hullo, Dodd ! " shouted someone. 

" Hullo there ! " replied Dodd, and came over 
to us. 

This was none other than the redoubtable Major 
G. Dodd of the 27th Punjabis, who for several years 
now had kept the fierce Mahsud-Waziri tribe in the 
cup of his hand. 

He was not the least perturbed, or excited, or 
elated ; he was just as calm and serene as if he 



246 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

were walking in to breakfast at home. Yet he had 
had a narrow escape — a great tribe, which counts 
14,000 well-armed warriors, up and out against 
him. Besieged in an inadequate enclosure com- 
manded at close range from neighbouring heights : 
the nearest relief sixty miles or more away. But he 
took it all quite serenely and in the day's work ; 
and was only full of half-bashful apologies at 
ha\'ing, as he put it, " dug the brigade out in such 
infernal hot weather.'"' 

Dav and night Dodd lived \\ith his life in his 
hands ; threatened by open enemies, or lurking 
assassins. It was not long after that he had 
another narrow escape. 

It had been so arranged that he should reach his 
headquarters at Wano by a certain date, in order 
to be present at an evening entertainment which 
was to be given in honour of a departing Native 
Of&cer. Owing to some unforeseen dut}' calling him 
elsewhere, he was unable to arrive on the promised 
date, and his place at the festi\'ities was taken by 
Captain H. Butler, of The Guides. 

Amongst other entertainments was a Ivhattuk 
dance, a wild affair round a camp fire, accompanied 
by much brandishing of keen-edged swords. Captain 
Butler was seated in the place of honour watching 
this performance, with Major Bond, R.E., on one 
side, and the Subadar-Major on the other. The 
dancers and spectators work themselves up to a 
great state of excitement over these dances ; and 
when this excitement was at its highest, a recruit, 
who had enlisted in the Mihtia with the express 
intention of kilhng a British Officer, decided that his 
opportunity had arrived. 

He had counted on Major Dodd being present, and 
had intended to kill him ; but not being able to find 
him he took Captain Butler as the next most 
prominent person, and walking up behind fired 



THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 247 

through the back of his chair and instantly killed 
him. The murderer then took refuge behind some 
water cisterns, but after firing a few more rounds 
was taken unhurt, and in due course hanged. 

In this connection Major Dodd, a few weeks 
before in conversation, disclosed a very curious 
feature in the character of some of the wilder spirits 
who enlist on the Frontier. A predecessor of his. 
Colonel Harman, had a few years before been shot 
dead whilst at dinner in the Mess, by a fanatical 
sepoy. The sepoy was overpowered and duly 
hanged. To the memor\" of Colonel Harman, the 
Officers and men of the regiment erected a monu- 
ment in the middle of the fort. It was a plain 
pillar of grey stone, about the height and shape of 
Cleopatra's Needle on the Thames Embankment. 
On the base was engraved the usual memorial 
tablet to the deceased Officer. To ordinary- eyes it 
was, what it was intended to be, a simple monument 
to a brave and honoured Commanding Officer. Not 
so to the ignorant recruit from the wild tribes across 
the border. 

As Major Dodd explained, the first thing the 
recruit asks on seeing this prominent pillar is : 

" \Miat is that ? " 

" That is a monument to the Colonel Sahib who 
was shot dead by a sepo3%" is the reply. 

" Wall ! Wah ! " he says. But what he thinks is : 

" WTiat a great hero that sepoy was to have so 
magnificent a monument erected to commemorate his 
having killed the Colonel Sahib." 

" So," added Major Dodd, " I have given strict 
orders that no monument of that sort is to be 
erected here to me, should I share the same fate. 
For it only stands as a perpetual sign and reminder 
that if one Sahib can be killed so can another, and in 
that case he too who fired the shot will have a 
perpetual monument, which all recruits will see. 



248 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

And wliat they see they talk about at their homes, 
and fed by the pernicious preaching of their mullah, 
go out and do likewise." 

In that Fort at Wano in Waziristan live at most 
seven British Officers, and sometimes when the 
others are on tour only two or three, in the midst of 
a regiment 1500 strong, in the ranks of which may 
be many past and potential murderers. The nearest 
British soldier is at Mooltan, 200 miles distant as 
the crow flies. 

Nothing disturbed, Dodd went on his way as usual, 
till a couple of months after came a welcome chance 
of a short run home, a much-needed rest, after 
years of hard and trying work. 

Together with a friend and comrade, Captain 
Brown of the 58th Rifles, Dodd journeyed down the 
Gomal Pass, and was staying a few days at Tank, 
where lies a small border garrison, to settle up 
affairs before he went home. It was Easter Sunday, 
and next day he was starting off to catch the mail 
steamer. He had spent most of the day in arranging 
various matters, both great and small, connected 
with his work, and amongst others a case in which 
his own orderly, a Mahsud-Waziri, was concerned. 

This man had originally been in one of the Militia 
regiments on this border, and on his discharge Dodd, 
having belief in his integrity, took him on as a 
private orderly, and treated him with the greatest 
confidence and kindness. His main duty was at all 
times to keep a watchful guard over the safety of 
his master, and especially to guard him against the 
fanatical attacks of his own tribesmen. That he 
should be completely and effectively armed for this 
purpose he was not only provided with a revolver, 
but Dodd gave him his own sporting rifle, which 
threw a bullet that would knock down an elephant, 
and which no charging fanatic could ever get past. 
The brother, or other near relation, of this orderly, 



THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 249 

had undertaken a small piece of contract work on 
the new railway which was being built in the 
vicinity ; and for this work a small sum, about £20, 
was due to him. The same gentleman had, however, 
been implicated in a cattle-lifting raid just shortly 
before, and Dodd told the orderly that before the 
cheque could be made over the matter of the stolen 
cattle must be enquired into. This is a recognised 
form of patriarchal procedure on the Frontier, where 
crimes and misdemeanours are totalled up against 
rupees, and a rough balance struck one way or the 
other. 

Having thus settled the case, as he had hundreds 
before. Major Dodd went out into the garden, and 
with Captain Brown sat down in basket chairs on 
the lawn for half an hour or so, awaiting the first 
Mess bugle, before going to bathe and change for 
dinner. About twenty yards from where the two 
Officers were sitting was a low mud wall which 
divided their compound from the next ; and beyond 
the wall, running close alongside it, was a privet 
hedge about 4I feet high with a gap in one place 
made by servants clambering over the wall and 
through the hedge. 

Captain Brown was sitting with his back to the 
hedge, and Major Dodd was nearly facing him ; 
both of them close together. Suddenly a shot rang 
out, and Captain Brown was shot through the back, 
the bullet passing through the back of his chair, and 
immediately sank down. Major Dodd at once 
started up to confront the danger, but was instan- 
taneously shot down with a bullet high up in the 
thigh. 

At this moment two or three officers were in a 
neighbouring bungalow about fifty yards off, stand- 
ing in a separate compound. They also were just 
about to dress for dinner when they heard the 
shots. They were wondering what they meant, 



250 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

when Major Dodd's servants came running in to say 
that their master, and another Sahib, had been 
shot by a gang of Mahsuds. 

Amongst those who heard this was G. W. C. 
Hickie, a subaltern in the Royal Artillery, stationed 
at Tank. This gallant young OfBcer at once seized 
a revolver, and dashed off in hot pursuit. It also 
so happened that just at this time the night guard 
of Frontier Constabulary was mounting outside the 
very house occupied by Major Dodd. The men of 
the guard also at once joined in the pursuit, the 
general impression being that a gang of from seven 
to nine Mahsuds had to be dealt with. 

At the same time two British Officers of the 
Frontier Constabulary, a Native Officer, and some 
men turned out from the compound of the Sessions 
House, which lay close by. Outside the line of 
compound walls and hedges was an open space, 
extending for some hundreds of yards towards the 
native city of Tank. This open space was dotted 
about with clumps of palm trees, and there were 
on it also a few buildings recently erected in connec- 
tion with the railway. 

Directly the pursuit, headed by the gallant Hickie, 
appeared in the open, a brisk and accurate fire was 
opened on it. So brisk that the idea was confirmed 
that a strong gang had to be faced. But the powder 
being smokeless, in the dusk of the evening it was 
difficult to locate the exact position of the party. 
First one man was hit in the hand and then another 
killed, then two more were shot dead, but, nothing 
daunted, Hickie charged across the open determined 
to round up the gang, but when about fifty yards 
from his goal, which was a clump of palm trees, he 
was shot down never to rise again. 

With deadly precision shots poured from the 
clump insomuch that there were now eight casual- 
ties, six of them fatal. Happily at this moment a 



THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 251 

Jemadar of the Constabulary in the waning Hght 
just caught sight of a head. He took an instan- 
taneous snapshot ; the head disappeared, and the 
firing from the clump ceased. The whole in- 
cident had only lasted a few minutes, and the 
gang of Mahsuds turned out to be Major Dodd's 
orderly alone, armed with his master's sporting 
rifle. 

Before he was killed himself he had taken the 
lives of three British Officers and three men, and 
wounded two others. Captain Brown lasted till 
next day, and Major Dodd for a couple of days, 
before they joined the gallant throng of soldiers who 
have died for their King and country. One likes to 
think of them, that brave and gallant company, 
looking over the battlements of Heaven, with kindly 
eyes watching us as we struggle along in the path 
they have so nobly trod before us. 

But one wonders what Major Dodd said to his 
orderly. 

This story has been told not because of its tragic 
end, but because Major Dodd was such a fine typical 
Englishman, whose example every boy, or man, 
might well try to follow. He had a great com- 
manding figure, though it is character, not neces- 
sarily height, that gives command ; but he had 
both, and with it a remarkably calm and imper- 
turbable manner. He never was to be seen in the 
least perturbed by the most astounding, or most 
unwelcome, news. He took it without a sign, and 
issued his orders at once and briefly, and in a 
manner which showed that he was a man of action 
who knew his own mind, and whose word was 
instant law. 

In addition to commanding 1500 border soldiers, he 
held control, on behalf of His Majesty the King, over 
one of the most turbulent and warlike tribes on our 
Frontiers. A tribe in which every male is a born 



252 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

fighter and freelance, and which, as I have said, owns 
14,000 trained warriors. 

This is one of those tribes which by treaty Hes 
within the British area of control ; self-governed, 
but under a broad and enlightened British control. 
The language and character of these wild high- 
landers Major Dodd knew as none other, and by the 
sheer force of his individuality he was the uncrowned 
king of those territories. Knowledge, straight and 
direct dealing, absolute fearlessness, and a charming 
personality. These combined to make Dodd the 
great man he was. We may place him alongside 
Nicholson, Edwardes, and Cavagnari as one of the 
great men of the Frontier. 

I hope also you will not forget the gallant Hickie, 
who without a single thought dashed out to the 
rescue and died pistol in hand like a brave English 
gentleman. His ship, too, was awaiting him in 
Bombay ; but twelve hours later, instead of saying 
cheery good-byes to his friends, we were follow- 
ing his gun carriage and mourning charger, with 
muffled drums and soft sad music, to a soldier's 
grave. 



The Deputy-Commissioner was holding a jirgah. 
It was the month of May and very hot, and the 
members of the jirgah smelt very high, and the 
matter under discussion was trivial and wearisome. 
From under the shade of the shamiana the Deputy- 
Commissioner cast a tired and bleared gaze at the 
fierce-blazing rocks, the sand, and stones which 
were his horizon. He lighted another cigarette. 
Gently under his breath he cursed the jirgah and 
longed for England. England the green, and cool, 
and fresh, and beautiful ! As he threw away the 
burnt match he looked up, and straight in front, 
on a far ridge, he caught the flash of a helio. 



THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 253 

" Hai ! Hullo ! Mullah Baksh ! Give a shout 
for the signallers, there is someone calling us up." 

But the signallers had seen the call too ; and 
presently, winking and blinking, came through the 
following message : 

" Strong body of raiders held up near Musa Kheyl 
village. Please requisition troops to capture them." 

It did not take Mr. Bill, the Deputy-Commissioner 
and a man of action, ten minutes to get his horse, 
and meanwhile he sent a message to the General 
Commanding the troops at the nearest Cantonment, 
asking for help. 

What had occurred was this. A strong band of 
raiders had penetrated some fifty miles within our 
borders, held up a village in the good old border 
fashion, and, besides taking any loose cash and 
gold ornaments that they could find, had kidnapped 
four Hindu boys. These were sons of rich shop- 
keepers, whom they hoped to get across the border, 
and there hold up to ransom by their fond parents. 

Formerly Government, taking a fatherly attitude, 
used to pay the whole or part of the ransom de- 
manded. But taking example from the gentlemen 
who used to breed snakes with a view to getting the 
Government reward for killing them, a regular trade 
in ransoms began to grow up. 

Thus one ruffian, who lived in British territory, 
would arrange with another ruffian, who lived 
across the border, to come across and kidnap him. 
Having accomplished the fell deed, with much 
huUaballoo and blunderbuss discharge, he with 
blood-curdling threats, carried off his friend to the 
mountains and there held him up to ransom. When, 
after much negotiation, further threats, and further 
bargaining, the ransom had been paid, the two 
ruffians divided the spoil and each went his way 
rejoicing. So the payment of ransoms by Govern- 
ment was stopped. 



254 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

But to get back to our story. The Deputy-Com- 
missioner got to horse and, accompanied by the 
Constabulary Officer, galloped fifteen miles across 
country to the metalled road, where his car had 
been left. The car took them both another fifteen 
miles, till they again came to unmetalled tracks, and 
had to take to horses again. Another ten miles and 
they came to the village where the raiders had been 
reported as held up. Here they met a mounted 
police constable who told them that they had been 
misinformed, and that the raiders had passed 
onwards and were making for the hills, hotly 
pursued by armed bands of villagers. 

The track of the raiders had been cleverly picked 
up by skilled trackers in the Police ; and these made 
out the footmarks of seven men and two children. 
These had been followed with great skill up stream 
beds, over rocky plains, and through stubble and 
scrub. The Cavalry from the Cantonment had also 
joined in. The trail was now some six or eight hours' 
old, which meant a long start. The pursuit was 
continued until nightfall, and on starting again at 
crack of dawn the Hindu children were found 
abandoned in a nullah, none the worse for their 
adventure. 

The trackers again took up the trail, which now 
ran into exceedingly rocky and difficult ground. 
The village gun-men took up the scent, and the 
Cavalry scoured the country far ahead, blocking 
all likely paths to the mountains. And thus the 
hunt went on all day, till at last towards evening 
certain news came in that the gang had been located 
in a dry watercourse with high banks. 

The Cavalry had covered from seventy-five to 
eighty miles, and were now up against a small but 
desperate gang at bay. All outlaws, each with a 
price on his head, and led by one of the most 
desperate characters on the Frontier. Having 



THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 255 

exactly located the gang, a close cordon was 
gradually and carefully drawn round their lair so 
that there should be no chance of escape during the 
night. So close was the cordon that some of the 
soldiers were only thirty yards off the raiders. 

The position taken up by the gang was in a deep 
narrow ditch at the foot of one of the steep sides of 
a nullah, here only about thirty yards wide. In this 
ditch the desperadoes were quite invisible from 
anywhere, and the greatest care had to be taken by 
the surrounding party to escape being shot on sight 
if they moved. 

Things being thus at a deadlock, the Deputy- 
Commissioner shouted down to the gang, calling on 
them to surrender. At first they seemed inclined 
to do so, but probably, on second thoughts, knowing 
that a halter was their eventual fate, they decided to 
fight on. 

It was now quite dark and chances of escape 
increased ; but the cordon was pulled still closer 
together, and the soldiers were now almost shoulder 
to shoulder, and had orders to remain so, awake and 
alert, all night. Still with the fear that this desperate 
gang might charge out, the Deputy-Commissioner 
thought of a new device. He ordered brushwood to 
be collected which, when lighted, was thrown over 
the edge of the bank on to the gang in the ditch at 
foot. Partly hoping to smoke them out and partly 
to give light to the soldiers, who were only thirty 
yards away on the opposite bank, to get a chance 
shot. The raiders were heard moving about in the 
ditch to avoid the falling firebrands, and a few shots 
were fired into them from opposite, but still they 
refused to surrender. Just at this time a firebrand, 
instead of rolling down into the ditch, stuck half- 
way, and then suddenly flared up. Unhappily at 
this very moment the British Officer in command 
of the Cavalry, who with his men was lining the 



256 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

opposite bank, looked over his entrenchment. The 
glare lit up his face and with one swift shot passed 
away another gallant Officer in the service of his 
King. A sharp fusillade was now opened on the 
raiders' ditch, and finding it too hot the remnant 
made a dash for liberty. One man even had the 
calm deliberation to stop and pick up a dead man's 
rifle. Even at death's door a trans-border raider 
could not resist the temptation to steal a rifle. 

After a brisk encounter the whole gang were shot 
down except one man, who broke his way out, badly 
wounded, and was captured next day. 

At first a feeling of pity, or admiration, may be 
felt for a gang of freelances who put up such a stout 
fight against superior numbers. But as a matter of 
fact this class of freebooter is entitled to little pity, 
and no admiration. He is usually a criminal of the 
deepest dye, steeped to the lips in murder, and 
crimes the most atrocious. He will kill at sight out 
of sheer wantonness, and theft and rapine are his 
daily pleasure. He is, however, undoubtedly bold 
and resourceful, of iron frame, impervious to fatigue, 
hardy and abstemious. No less a man could make 
the immense treks that he makes, invariably on foot ; 
whilst on the return journey he is also often heavily 
laden with loot. 

His methods are generally to travel by night, and 
to lie up by day, till he gets near his objective. This 
may be thirty or forty miles inside the British 
frontier. Having got close up the night before, and 
rested all day, he makes his final dash on the 
selected village at about nine o'clock on the second 
night. His objective in the village is generally a 
rich shopkeeper or banker. Arrived there, part of 
his gang holds the streets with swords drawn and 
rifles at full cock, ready to cut down or shoot anyone 
who moves. Meanwhile the rest pounce on the 
destined victims and rob them. This accomplished. 



THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 257 

the whole gang quickly clears off at a great pace ; 
moving half at a run and half at a quick walk. They 
will thus, using little frequented by-paths and cross- 
country cuts, cover fifteen to twenty miles, and 
sometimes more, before dawn. Arrived at home 
the spoil is divided, and the gang disperses till the 
next time they begin to feel poor, when the operation 
is repeated. 



Lunch was just on the table when a telegram was 
handed to the General Commanding at an Indian 
Frontier Station. It was from the Deputy-Com- 
missioner, and stated that a raiding party of thirty- 
two outlaws was located in a village distant about 
thirty miles. He asked that a squadron of Cavalry 
might be sent to help the Border Military Police, 
and others, to capture them. 

The General sent for the Officer Commanding the 
Cavalry, and was giving him his instructions when 
in walked the Deputy-Commissioner himself. He 
explained that he had now learnt that the gang was 
one of the most desperate on the Frontier ; and he 
added that a strong force would be required, and 
tough fighting might be expected before they were 
captured. He had therefore taken the precaution 
to commandeer all the local horse-drawn convey- 
ances, which here take the form of two-wheeled 
dog-carts, so that some Infantry might keep up 
with the Cavalry. These he placed at the disposal 
of the General for carrying as many Infantry men 
as they would hold. Off, then, went two squadrons 
of Cavalry followed by a string of forty-eight tum- 
tums and two tongas full of Infantry soldiers. 

This was one of those rare cases in which the 
villagers, or rather one stout fellow who was a 
village elder, dared to give the authorities timely 
information. Generally, so terrorised had they 



258 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

become by these bloodthirsty and relentless raiders 
from across the border, that they dared not give 
information for fear of future reprisals. Nay, this 
headman had gone further, he had actually en- 
trapped the gang. They had been apparently bent 
on raiding a still more distant village, and 
demanded from our friend food and concealment 
for the day before proceeding further. The head- 
man, complying with their request, put them into 
a mosque, gave them food and drink and tobacco, 
and bade them lie quiet till the evening. He then 
immediately sent news to the police and civil 
authorities, and these passed it on to the military. 

The first to arrive on the scene were some Border 
Military Police and Civil Police, who happened to 
be handy, and these kept a sharp look-out on the 
mosque throughout the day. Owing to delay in 
passing on the news, the Cavalry did not start till 
3.5 p.m., and therefore could not be up till late. 
It was indeed getting quite dusk when the first of 
the troops began to arrive. 

On arrival, accompanied by the Assistant-Com- 
missioner, the Cavalry Commander climbed on to 
the roof of a house and took a bird's-eye view of the 
situation. From here it was seen that the raiders 
were still in the village mosque, surrounded by the 
Military Police, and heavy firing was going on. The 
mosque was a building about twenty feet square, 
with one door opening on to the compound. In the 
compound were two or three trees, and round it 
a mud wall about three feet high. Outside the wall 
on one side was open ground, on another uneven 
ground with more trees, and on the two other sides 
the village buildings commenced. The Commander, 
seeing that this was a hard nut to crack, immediately 
sent off for guns, and meanwhile disposed his men 
so as to hold the raiders in. 

The Assistant-Commissioner asked for the Border 



THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 259 

Military Police to be relieved, as they had had a 
very strenuous day and required rest. A dis- 
mounted troop of Cavalry was consequently sent 
to line the south wall of the compound, whilst four 
men were placed on the roof of an adjacent building 
to command the roof of the mosque, lest the raiders 
should break out that way. Another party of dis- 
mounted Cavalry was sent to cover with fire the 
open ground in front of the mosque. And one troop 
was kept in rear, ready to mount and charge, or 
pursue the enemy, if they broke through the inner 
cordon. Scarcely had these arrangements been 
made when sounds of digging were heard in the 
mosque. Either the raiders were making loopholes 
or a hole or tunnel by which to escape. The inner 
cordon was therefore strengthened with a few police 
bayonets. 

At about 7.30 p.m. the first of the Infantry began 
to arrive, twenty men under Captain Stirling of the 
57th Rifles. To him the Cavalry Commander, Major 
Swanston, 14th Lancers, explained the situation 
and the plans already made, and directed him with 
his men to strengthen the inner cordon round the 
compound wall and with fixed bayonets to hold on 
stoutly. It was now practically dark, but in taking 
up their position one of the 57th Rifles was shot. 
Some twenty minutes later arrived Major Swifte of 
the 57th Rifles, followed by forty more rifles of his 
regiment. An attempt was now made by the 
soldiers to get on to the roof of the mosque, but they 
had to retreat hurriedly as it was found that the 
roof was not bullet proof, and the raiders could 
shoot them at leisure through it. On the other 
hand, it was now sufficiently apparent that the side 
walls of the mosque were so thick as to be bullet 
proof. So the raiders were safe except from bullets 
which might pierce the door. 

More Infantry having now arrived, Major Swans- 



26o A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

ton rode \sith an escort to inspect the Cavalry 
dispositions. He first hit oft" the right picquet N.E. 
of the mosque and worked his way roiind to the S.E., 
and found the picquet line well placed and about 
350 yards from the mosque. There had been no 
time to reconnoitre the ground by dayhght, so 
the physical features had to be guessed. Ha\ing 
completed his inspection, Major Swanston returned 
to his central position in the \illage. He had just 
dismoimted and was giving his horse a feed, when 
he heard the firing, which up to this time had been 
spasmodic, sometimes more intense than at others, 
suddenly become furious. Whistles began to blow, 
and orders to cease fire were shouted. 

Major Swanston ran to the S.W. comer of the 
Musjid, only to hear a shout from his right that the 
raiders had escaped. A bugle sounded the raUy on 
another side. The report was only too true ; the 
raiders had charged out and made a dash for hberty, 
killing Captain Stirling as well as several men and 
wounding others as they pushed through. 

But, as it was not known how many of the raiders 
had charged out and how many remained, the mosque 
was stiU closely invested, whilst the Cavalry went oft 
in pitch darkness in pursuit. In about an hour they 
returned, having \Wth great difficulty accounted for 
four raiders, for the pursuit was mostly through 
high green standing wheat, where concealment was 
easy. For the rest of the night one troop was kept 
always mounted and a constant patrol was main- 
tained round the village, furnished by another 
troop. 

Shortly after 10.30 p.m. voices were heard in the 
mosque, and the Assistant-Commissioner opened a 
parley. The iimiates said they were wounded and 
wanted water. The reply given was that before any 
assistance could be given they must throw out their 
rifles ; for these people, wounded or unwounded, 



THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 261 

are the most treacherous dogs on earth ; bar 
perhaps the Germans. They refused the offer and 
negotiations ceased. 

About midnight a telegram arrived to say that 
two guns and another company of Infantry were on 
their way. Necessity is the mother of invention, 
and it is wonderful how quick the Mountain Gunners 
get their guns along ; sometimes on mules, some- 
times towed behind a tonga at full gallop, and 
sometimes loaded up in a vehicle of any sort. 

Later in the night one of the inmates of the 
mosque craw^led out with his rifle, and towards 
morning another got as far as the doorway with his 
rifle, which was then taken from him. 

By 6 a.m. it was sufflciently light for the cavalry 
to search the country for escaped raiders and rifles, 
whilst the Infantry were employed on the same 
duty in the closer vicinity. It was still not known 
how many remained in the mosque, but as all was 
silent it was decided to dig a hole in the roof so as 
to get a view inside. On arri\ing on the roof it was 
found that the raiders had already dug a hole, 
though whether any of them escaped this way was 
not quite clear. Digging another hole nearer the 
centre a lantern was let down by a rope and it was 
then discovered that there remained only two dead 
raiders. 

This was a very tight and desperate little fight, 
typical of many that take place on the Frontier. Out 
of thirty-two men the raiders lost eight killed and 
four wounded, amongst the killed being two 
celebrated leaders of outlaw gangs. The loss on our 
side was one British Ofi&cer and six men killed, and 
seven wounded. 



It was Christmas Eve in a Frontier Station, and 
at a Frontier Mess. There were few officers present. 



262 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

for the regimental polo team was away playing in a 
Tournament ; whilst others had gone out for 
Christmas shoots in various parts. But amongst 
those left behind were the Major, old Long Tom as 
we called him, and the Boy, so called for obvious 
reasons. After dinner some played bridge and some 
snooker, but all went to bed soon after eleven 
o'clock. 

Barely an hour later, as the Boy was sleeping very 
soundly, he had a sort of distant notion that it was 
time to get up, and that his bearer was worrying him 
with morning tea. 

** Sahib ! Sahib ! " murmured the bearer. " A 
note, a very urgent note, from the Major Sahib." 

The Boy stirred a little and muttered, " Oh ! go 
to " and the rest died in mumbles. 

"It is very, very urgent, Sahib, it is most neces- 
sary to awake." 

" Heh ! What ! What the blazes ? Hulloa ! 
Luckoo, what's up ? " 

" Your Honour, an urgent letter from the Major 
Sahib, and his orderly awaits without." 

The Boy, half -a wake, fumbled the note open and 
read : 

Dear Boy, 

I hear they are raiding a village thirty miles 
from here, and I am off with a squadron to try and 
catch them. You are to come too. We start in 
three-quarters of an hour. Come over and have a 

snack first. 

Yrs. v.s., 

T. B. T. 

The Boy hastily dressed, whilst his bearer went 
to order his charger ; and then walked across the 
hundred yards or so to the Major's bungalow. 
Now the Major's lady was always beautiful, but the 



THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 263 

Boy thought she had never looked so handsome or 
lovely as she did in the hasty toilet of that midnight 
meal. Hot coffee, and toast, and fried eggs, and 
cold ham ! And to take in their holsters the Major's 
wife made two little packets, one little packet for 
the Major, and one for the Boy. 

Outside, the faint jingle of bits and clank of 
stirrups could be heard, and the Major said : 

" Now, Boy, we must be off." 

" Very good, sir, I'll see that the horses are 
ready," for the Boy knew the Major and his lady 
loved each other very much, and would rather say 
*' good-bye " alone. 

To be sure, when he came back the beautiful 
lady's eyes were just brimming, but not quite over, 
and she said bravely enough, " Good-bye, Boy, and 
bring my Tom back safe and sound." 

And he felt cool soft lips on his forehead, and a tear 
on his cheek. 

"Yes, rather," blundered the Boy; "and good- 
bye and good luck ; we'll be back to tea all right, 
or anyway for Christmas dinner at the Mess. Oh ! 
hang it, here's Rip turned up ! Will you keep him 
till I come back ? Thanks awfully. Good-bye." 

So Rip the terrier and the lady stood at the 
window, whilst the soldiers rode away into the 
bitter dark night and driving rain. 

" And now we must go to bed again, dear Rip," 
said the lady. " You on a nice warm rug by the 
fire, and I in my nice warm bed." She was a brave 
lady. 

Meanwhile into the biting wind, through the inky 
darkness, along a scarce visible track, at the head of 
their squadron, that Christmas morn trotted the 
Major and the Boy. At first they talked about polo, 
and then about last Christmas, and from that 
naturally to Christmas at home ; and then about 
horses — a lot about horses. But, strangely enough, 



264 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

little about the work on hand ; and yet not strangely, 
for that was all simply cut and dried, and wanted no 
talking about. They were trotting out hard so as 
to arrive before dawn and interpose an ambush 
between the raiders and the defenceless village 
which they hoped to sack or hold to ransom. The 
last six miles they trotted in silence, and every voice 
and sound was hushed, and pipe and cigarette stowed 
away. 

When quite close to the village they slowed down, 
and assisted by one of the troopers whose home it 
was, they circled silently round it, and took post on 
the threatened side. 

There were two ravines and three footpaths that 
approached the village from this direction, and up 
one or other of these the raiders would come. At 
each point as they came to it the Major left a squad of 
men, with orders to hide their horses and to take 
post on foot with their rifles. Three of these 
picquets had been placed in position, and it was still 
inky dark and drizzling slightly as the Major and 
the Boy groped their way along towards the fourth. 

Then there came suddenly a short, sharp call in 
Pushtu, as of one surprised : 

" Who goes there ? " 

For one second everything stood still ; then came 
a blinding flash, followed by a loud report. Then 
in quick succession three more. 

Silence for another second, and then the answering 
shots, five, six, seven, a dozen. 

Then again dead silence, and then a moan, and a 
voice whispered : 

" They have hit the Sahib ! " 

" Not me," said the Boy cheerfully. " I am all 
right, and got one of the devils with my revolver as 
he ran." 

" Then it must be the Major Sahib," said the 
voice. 



THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 265 

The Boy groped his way along a few yards to 
where the words were spoken ; and there saw, 
kneehng beside a long drab figure on the ground, the 
grey-bearded old Native Officer, 

Not the Major really ? Not dear old Long Tom, 
whom everyone loved ? 

But so it was. 

The Boy took off his cloak and rolled it into a 
pillow. " Not badly hit, Major, are you ? Have 
a httle whisky ? " 

But there was no answer, and no movement. 

Then there came a faint whisper, and the Boy 
bent low to catch it. " My dear — love to her — 

poor Christmas " and then a soft sobbing sigh, 

and the Major had gone on to the land of eternal 
peace. 



** They must be nearing home by now," said the 
Major's lady to the orderly. 

" Get my horse, and come with me, and we will 
take Rip and meet them. They said they would be 
back by teatime." 

Now the Boy had sent a messenger to break the 
dreadful news to the poor lady ; but taking a short 
cut, he had just missed the lady, and the orderly, 
and the dog. 

So these three rode gaily out, laughing and 
chatting. And Rip chased some sheep, and was 
severely reprimanded ; and the orderly's horse 
shied at a buffalo and the buffalo shied at the horse ; 
and both made the lady laugh, as indeed would any- 
thing, for it was a bright and lovely Christmas Day, 
and she was riding out to meet dear old Tom. 

A little further on the orderly said, " I see the 
dust of the squadron over there, about three miles 
distant, where the road passes round that spur." 

" You have sharp eyes, Zarif, I cannot see any- 



266 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

thing ; but let us canter on, so as to meet them 
sooner." 

So they cantered on for some miles, and then, at 
the end of the long straight avenue that lined the 
road, they saw the squadron. 

First came two troopers, the point of the Advance 
Guard ; then a few hundred yards back five or six 
men under a Duffadar, as a support. And both 
these parties looked with sorrow on the lady, and 
one old soldier muttered low : 

" Alas ! how sad the day." 

But the lady nodded gaily to them, and passed on. 

The slight dust made by these small parties of 
horsemen cleared away, and there was plainly 
visible the main body of the squadron advancing 
about three hundred yards off. 

" Hullo ! Zarif, I only see one Sahib riding at the 
head of the squadron. I do hope nothing has hap- 
pened to the Chota Sahib." 

" The Chota Sahib is doubtless in the rear, seeing 
that there is no straggling." 

" But, I say, Zarif, that is the Chota Sahib in front. 
I know his horse. The Major Sahib must be in the 
rear." 

** Assuredly so. Your Excellency." 

At this moment the Boy saw the gladly advancing 
pair, and Rip, and knew his messenger must have 
missed them. 

" Here, Jowalla Sing, take the squadron home. 
I will lead the Mem-Sahib apart, and break the 
dreadful news to her." 

" KdUo ! Boy, welcome back ! Gracious ! you 
do look tired ! And where is my Tom ? " 

" Let us get out of the dust a bit," said the Boy. 

" Boy ! Boy ! Where is Tom ? You don't dare 
say you have allowed anything to happen to him ! " 

" Come out beyond the trees, dear lady, and let's 
talk a little," 



THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS 267 

" Dear God ! Not dead, Boy ? Only wounded 
— badly — say so quick, Boy ! " 

Just then came in sight, along the road, a little 
cavalcade of six, and in the midst of it was a 
curtained litter, borne by four men. 

" The last words he whispered to me, dear lady, 
were, * My dear love to her.' " 

And so another simple grave marks the Borders 
of our Empire in the East. 



CHAPTER XVII 

INDIA AND THE INDIANS 

The Indian Problem — Paternal Government — Laws and Lawyers — 
The Disturbing Element — Poisonous Polluters of the Political 
Atmosphere — The Frontier Crimes Act — What India Requires 
— Ibrahim Khan — His Devotion and Death — The Indian Soldier 
— Devotion to his Officers — An Old Retainer — Awaiting the 
Baby Sahib — The Best Indians — The Worst — Kadir Dad — His 
Devotion to his Master — John of Baghdad — Lord Mayo — " A 
King Indeed " — His Liberality— Sir Pertab Singh — The 
Englishman in India — His Qualities — The One Man Present — 
Swaraj — An Exhibition — The Deputy-Commissioner to the 
Rescue — When India is Ready for Self-Government 

THAT there is an Indian problem is perhaps 
due to allowing one hand of the clock to 
run on a little faster than it proportionately 
should. There are upwards of 300,000,000 people in 
India, and probably 298,000,000 of those are best 
and most suitably governed on the paternal system. 

The paternal system consists of one clean-bred, 
perfectly honest and unbribable Englishman, stand- 
ing under a tree and, according to his lights, without 
law or legal procedure, deciding cases on common- 
sense Unes, and to the best of his ability. That is 
the system which suits those vast millions of the 
majority. It still obtains in country regions where 
the Deputy-Commissioner can still find time to 
travel amongst his people. Single-handed honest 
justice is at the villagers' doors, and the verdict, 
whatever it may be, is accepted at once and unani- 
mously ; such a thing as an appeal is unknown. 

In the development of this patriarchal system 
came centres for the trial of cases, law courts, 

268 



INDIA AND THE INDIANS 269 

lawyers, and a multiplication of laws. The Indian 
generically is not a litigious person, but once he takes 
to drink at the legal fountain he becomes a con- 
firmed drunkard. He faces resignedly all the 
bribery and corruption that bars his way to justice, 
and becomes a confirmed litigant. He will ruin 
himself over appeals and counter-appeals, in a case 
that his Deputy-Commissioner, under the purely 
patriarchal system, would have settled in half an 
hour, and at no cost whatever. 

With law and law courts came lawyers, Europeans 
out to make money and charging big fees. Indians, 
often of the lowest class, out to bleed their brethren, 
and wax fat on the proceeds. 

Law is an excellent thing and every land must 
have it. But the law and procedure which suits 
England does not necessarily suit India. 

That is one example of one hand of the clock 
going faster than it should. Possibly fifty or a 
hundred years hence India may have arrived at the 
stage when undiluted Enghsh law will be suitable 
to it. 

The successful Indian lawyers make modest 
fortunes. The unsuccessful are at the root of what 
is called sometimes the unrest in India. They are 
the disturbing element, and assuming the role of the 
representative voice of India, sometimes write and 
preach rank treason. They represent nobody but 
themselves, and a few thousand similar malcontents, 
and have no mandate whatever from the millions of 
their faithful fellow-subjects. 

It is dif&cult to get at these poisonous polluters of 
the political atmosphere through the ordinary agency 
of the law. They are lawyers themselves, and 
possibly know more about law and its possibilities 
than the Public Prosecutor. They can appeal and 
re-appeal, and go on appealing, and meanwhile can 
rope in strings of paid and perjured witnesses. 



270 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

Outside an ordinary Court of Justice in India may 
be found dozens of professional Indian witnesses, 
who will swear anything for one rupee. But on 
the North- West Frontier of India there is a special 
code, called, I believe, the Frontier Crimes Act, 
and applicable only to trans-Indus territory, under 
which straight and swift justice can be done. If 
that code were applied, when and where necessary, 
we should hear little more of political crimes, and 
organised conspiracies. 

The Indian requires straight, firm, paternal 
government, and the less the entanglements of the 
law enter into it the better. I speak only as a 
soldier, but after nearly forty years' experience of 
India, and of my Indian fellow-subjects. 

The Indian has many great and lovable qualities 
which I am the last to depreciate, and here are some 
instances of them. 

Very many years ago, an old Native Officer named 
Ibrahim Khan served under my father in the Mutiny, 
and many old wars on the Indian Frontier. When 
I joined The Guides he was living close by, the Khan 
of the village, a great local magnate and landowner. 
He declared that my father was both his father and 
his mother, and the founder of all his prosperity, and 
he sent me a pony as a small token of gratitude to 
my forefathers. This pony, on the Colonel's advice, 
I accepted, and he carried me many a weary mile in 
Afghanistan. Old Ibrahim Khan lived for many 
years afterwards, came to see me frequently, and 
took a fatherly interest in my progress. 

One day, however, came the news of the death of 
my father in England at the age of eighty-five. 
A letter also reached old Ibrahim Khan by the same 
mail giving him the same sad news. 

The old man came to me with tears in his eyes, and 
asked whether this dreadful news was indeed true. 
I said it was, but bade the old man bear up, for my 



1. " 

* n 







IKK All I M KUAN 



INDIA AND THE INDIANS 271 

father had lived a long and honourable life in the 
service of his Queen and country, and had been 
gathered peacefully to his fathers whilst still hale 
and hearty. 

But old Ibrahim Khan was inconsolable. 

" Alas ! and bitter alas ! " he moaned, " my dear 
old master dead, one with whom I served so long. 
Who am I that I should hve when my Sahib is 
taken ? " 

At last he went away bowed with grief, and ten 
years older than when he entered the house. 

Walking gently and feebly along he went straight 
to the mosque, the temple of his faith, and laying 
the fatal letter on the ground before him, he knelt 
down and bowed his head till his forehead lay on 
the letter. Then he prayed. 

" O Allah ! O God ! Who am I that I should 
remain on this earth when my dear Sahib is gone ? 
Take me also, O God, that I may be with my old 
master in Heaven." 

And Allah was good to him, and took the old man. 

He never ate or drank or spoke again. He just 
passed peacefully away, with a kind old smile on his 
face, and his dear master waiting to welcome him 
Beyond. 

Some people say that the old class of servant has 
died out. You hear the same in England, or Hong 
Kong, or India. But not perhaps so altogether. It 
is the personal element, the human sympathy that 
comes in. One man, or one woman, can always keep 
their servants, others cannot. 

In India perhaps the personal element comes in 
stronger than in most parts of the world. 

The Indian soldier holds a sort of distant allegiance 
to the King, as to a great and far-off God. He has 
a slightly more present feeling of allegiance to the 
Indian Government, the Sirkar, as he calls it. But 
his real personal devotion, and we may almost say 



272 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

loyalty, is to his own Sahib, his own British Officer. 
The Colonel of his regiment is his real deity, occasion- 
ally slightly overshadowed by the larger constellation 
of the General, when he is inspecting the regiment. 
Not that he really thinks very much of the General, 
but he knows his Colonel does, and therefore he must 
too. His squadron or company-commander figures 
in his eyes as being of the same calibre as his Colonel 
— just a Colonel in embryo. 

For these two, especially if they are his own old 
Sahibs, who have always been in the regiment, he 
will go through fire and water, and hell and chaos 
beyond. 

There is strength and weakness in this great and 
noble feeling. Strength as long as the Sahib lives 
to lead him, but when that swift bullet lays the 
Sahib low, he is often as sheep without a shepherd. 

When I was starting off for the Great War, my old 
bearer, Luckoo, who had been with me for twenty- 
four years, suddenly broke down as he was packing 
my kit. He bowed down to the ground, and 
embraced my feet, and wept bitter tears. 

" Sahib ! What can I do ? How can I live with- 
out my Sahib ? Take me with you." 

" I am awfully sorry, Luckoo, I can't possibly. 
I am only allowed one servant, and he must be a 
Mohammedan to be able to cook my food. So I must 
take Kadir Dad." 

Luckoo was a Hindu of high caste, who may not 
cook food even for the Sahib. Nor may he even 
hand it to him ; though I have known Luckoo 
commit the most dreadful crimes in that way, when 
I or my wife have been ill. 

" But look here, Luckoo, you've served me jolly 
well for twenty-four years, and I'll get you a good 
place with another big Sahib. Why, you are only a 
young man yet : not more than forty-two." 

" No, Sahib, I will never serve any other Sahib 



INDIA AND THE INDIANS 273 

but your Honour. Have I not eaten your Honour's 
salt for twenty-four years ? " 

'' Oh, rot, Luckoo ! I'll get you a good place. 
And how about Bugtoo, your son ? I must get him 
a place too." 

Bugtoo appeared first on our horizon as a tiny 
little boy with a very large tummy, and nothing on 
but a string round his waist, running about the 
sunny compound. One day it occurred to me to 
enquire who this child was. So I pointed him out to 
Luckoo and said, " Is that your boy, Luckoo ? " 
Luckoo cocked one eye at him, and after gazing 
steadfastly at the distant figure, remarked laconi- 
cally and non-committedly, " God knows ! " 

Bugtoo was shortly after put into a very nice 
livery by his mistress, with a very large puggri ; and 
thus clad, with great pomp and ceremony received 
visitors when they called at the front door. He 
was now a young man, and assistant-bearer to his 
father. 

'' No, Sahib," said Luckoo, " with great respect to 
your Honour, Bugtoo will take service with no one 
now. But when the Baby Sahib (as he still calls my 
son, now a strapping young Subaltern in the 
nth Hussars) comes to India, then Bugtoo will 
serve him. But no one else." 

And so these two faithful souls went off to their 
village in Kangra, and are there awaiting the arrival 
of the Baby Sahib on his Indian tour of soldiering. 

The best Indians in the middle and lower classes, 
and those who have the highest and best qualities, 
are the soldiers and servants who can perhaps 
neither read nor write, but who have lived all their 
lives within the honest atmosphere of Englishmen 
and Englishwomen. The worst are the so-called 
highly educated Indians, who get a smattering of 
algebra and John Stuart Mill. 

This book is not about the Great War, but perhaps 



274 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

two stories may be told about Kadir Dad, another 
old Indian servant who followed me to it. 

It was a dark and bitterly cold night. A driving 
icy wind and pouring rain. The ground soaking wet, 
and the water standing in pools on it. Heavy firing 
going on at intervals, and to move a precarious 
business. 

We had been fighting all day, and were fighting 
all night, and had another fight before us next day. 
Somehow, too, our food had gone wrong, and we had 
had nothing to eat or drink since the early morning 
before. 

We were passing the hours in utter misery. Frozen 
with cold, soaked to the skin, hungry and thirsty, 
and no smoking possible. 

Suddenly, at about 11.30 p.m., in the dense dark- 
ness a figure was seen groping along. 

" Halt ! Who comes there ? " 

" Kadir Dad, the General Sahib's servant. Is he 
here ? " 

And there was old Kadir Dad, with a bottle of 
whisky, a bottle of water, a tumbler, some biscuits, 
and my deck-chair ! 

For nearly two miles he had stumbled across the 
entirely trackless plain, in pitch darkness, without 
tree, or wall, or bush for landmark ; through shell 
fire and many swishing bullets, and after many hours 
had found us. 

I think we all blessed old Kadir Dad that night, 
and thanked the good God who guided him safely. 

As our midday meal was being prepared one day 
a shell fell into the kitchen and exploded, causing 
considerable devastation amidst the pots and pans, 
and wounding my Orderly. The cook was not a 
very brave fellow, named John, originally a native 
of India, but long settled in Baghdad, where he had 
married a Chaldean woman. The Chaldean lady 
was in Baghdad, and John joined up with us as cook, 



INDIA AND THE INDIANS 275 

with a view to rejoining her. The shell not only 
upset the kitchen, but upset John a great deal, too. 
He burst into loud lamentations, and wrung his 
hands and wept copious tears. He would have run 
away, only he thought it was rather more dangerous 
in the open behind than in the little dug-out where 
his kitchen was. 

Then came old Kadir Dad, as the angel of peace 
and consolation. He himself was not in the least 
perturbed ; and first picking up the fuze-head of 
the shell to be preserved as a relic, he squatted down 
beside the weeping John. 

"Yes, Jarn" (as he pronounced it), "you are a 
very brave fellow, Jarn. But how about the Sahib's 
food ? 

" Yes, Jarn," stroking him down the back, " you 
are a great warrior. Now just put the fire together 
again and blow it up. Thus. 

" Yes, Jarn, fear not. You will be able to talk 
about this a lot afterwards, and tell them how brave 
you are. Now the frying-pan and some bacon. 

" Yes, Jarn, your wife will say you are like a lion, 
so brave. A few more sticks on the fire, Jarn." 

More stroking and encouragement, and the weep- 
ing ceased. John felt like a desperately brave 
fellow, and finished frying the bacon in quite a 
cheerful and optimistic mood. 

In governing India, the more the personal element 
comes in the better, personal contact of the English- 
man with the governed, from the Viceroy down- 
wards. 

Lord Mayo was a tremendous personality amongst 
the natives of India. He was a great burly man of 
commanding presence, free with his money, and 
riding about amongst the people. 

One day, in the course of a ride round the North- 
West Frontier, he arrived with a couple of his Staff 
to stay the night at The Guides' Mess. 



276 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

Regimental troop horses had been sent out to 
stage him in. These were small light horses, and 
Lord Mayo was a large heavy man and rode hard. 
Anyway, when he got in he thought he had about 
foundered his mount, and did not want anyone to be 
the loser. 

" Capital little horse that of yours, Colonel. 
Carried me like a bird. I should like to buy him. 
What would be a fair price ? " 

" He belongs to Sowar Ram Sing, and I suppose 
is worth about Rs.250." For each trooper in the 
old Silladar Cavalry owned his own horse. 

" Well, he is a good bit of stuff." And turning to 
his Military Secretary : " Give Ram Sing Rs.500 
for his horse." 

Here indeed is a king ! thought Ram Sing and the 
rest of the regiment. 

Next morning, as he was going off, he turned to 
his Military Secretary, and said : 

*' I am afraid we have given these people a lot of 
trouble. Give the Mess servants Rs.500 backshish." 

As there were only three mess servants to divide 
this princely sum, they too decided that Lord Mayo 
was a king, and spread his fame far and wide. 

One of the highest and best class of Indians is 
Sir Pertab Singh. He is a gentleman to the finger- 
tips, and reminds one most of a very gallant knight 
of the days of chivalry. If the princes and leaders 
of India were all modelled on the type of Sir Pertab 
Singh, the British might to-morrow lay down the 
burden of government, and with confidence leave 
India to govern herself. 

To get on with the native you have to understand 
him, and that understanding is the result of inti- 
mate knowledge of his prides and his prejudices, 
which only comes with long residence in the country 
and daily intercourse. Travellers and new-comers 
often consider Englishmen in India unsympathetic, 



INDIA AND THE INDIANS 277 

even hard and arrogant. That is only a superficial 
view, the Englishman is really the kindest person in 
the world, but he has learnt almost insensibly, by 
years of contact with the people of India, that, 
however sympathetic he may be, he must be careful 
how and when he shows it. He is born of a nation 
accustomed for hundreds of years to govern alien 
nations all over the world, and as the history of the 
Empire shows, on the whole with humanity and 
success. There is perhaps no nation on earth which 
has come under British rule and guidance which has 
not benefited by it. The attitude of the Enghsh- 
man in India is that of one man, and alone, govern- 
ing thousands of his fellow subjects, not by force, but 
by strength of character and moral rectitude. 

To take a daily instance, an observer may be 
standing on a crowded railway platform where there 
are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Indians — a 
struggling, shouting, and seething mass. Appears 
one Englishman walking quietly to his carriage ; he 
neither pushes, nor shoves, nor shouts, but it is at 
once apparent that he is the one man on the platform. 
Through those hundreds of years he has insensibly 
acquired the natural demeanour of one who rules, 
an attribute which lies dormant when he is a plain 
citizen in England, but at once develops when great 
responsibilities fall on him. 

It is perhaps not generally known that there are 
only 1200 Englishmen in the Indian Civil Service, 
and that these govern more than 300,000,000 of the 
King's subjects. In a German Colony there are, as 
a rule, 30 per cent, who are officials. At that rate 
the Germans would require several millions of 
officials to govern India. 

The Indian National Congress from time to time 
puts forth suggestions, or demands, for a larger 
share of the government of the country to be 
entrusted to Indians. The extreme sections demand 



278 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

Home Rule and the abrogation of British control. 
But is the Indian nation ready for this ? Let us 
take two everyday instances. 

As far back as Lord Ripon's time, to meet the 
aspirations of the more forward spirits, a measure 
of Local Self -Government was introduced, " Lokul 
Sluff " the natives call it. Under this measure 
Boards were created for dealing with local affairs, 
municipal and the like. After many years' trial this 
measure has been found almost a total failure. The 
Indian cannot govern himself, even in small local 
affairs. With the very usual result that in most 
places the Board or Committee does practically 
nothing, and the whole work and control falls on the 
shoulders of the only Englishman on it, the Deputy 
or Assistant-Commissioner. 

A few years ago, when Swaraj — that is, the 
encouragement of home Indian industries — was to 
the fore, some of the leading Indians of a large city 
in Upper India conceived the very good idea of 
having an exhibition of home industries, so as to 
encourage their growth. The British Government 
heartily supported the scheme, and it was decided 
that an Indian Committee should manage the whole 
business from start to finish. This was all settled 
a year before the proposed opening of the Exhibition. 
As week followed week, and month followed month, 
and no signs of preparation were apparent, the head 
English official of the city, the Deputy-Commis- 
sioner, made discreet enquiries, and was assured 
that all was well. 

As time went on the Deputy-Commissioner used 
occasionally to take his morning ride past the 
Exhibition ground, to see what progress was being 
made. There was a little scaffolding up, and here 
and there usually a few coolies working in a desultory 
manner. 

Six weeks before the date fixed for the opening of 



INDIA AND THE INDIANS 279 

the Exhibition, the Indian Committee came to the 
Deputy-Commissioner with tears in their eyes, and 
implored him to help them. They could get nothing 
done, and failure stared them in. the face. 

The Deputy-Commissioner, like the kind man he 
was, took off his coat, and in addition to his own 
heavy duties, set to work to help them. He took 
over the whole job, and in six weeks accomplished 
what the Indian Committee had failed to do in a 
year, and made of the Exhibition a success. 

An Indian Judge told this story in the writer's 
hearing, and he added : 

" And those are the people who think they are 
fit to govern themselves." 

When India is ripe for self-government, then, in 
accordance with her precedents and history, England 
will gladly lay down the burden of government and 
launch another enlightened nation to sail the seas 
alone. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN 

My Father's Ride — 700 Miles in Seven Days — The June Heat — 
Sukker to Simla — " An Awful Beast " — The Adjutant-General's 
Remarks — Lord Lytton's Remark — The Irishman of India — 
Some Sample Letters — Catching a Train — " Your Honour 
Knows Best " — The Horns of a Dilemma — The Camp of Roaring 
Luck — The Old Soldier — " Draw Swords "— " Charge " — The 
Queen's Bounty — Sir James Willcocks and the Tactful Sentry — 
A Regimental Durbar — The Infuriated Gurkha — Deprived of 
his Rope to Heaven — The Judgment — Mr. Keir Hardie in India 
— Calls Himself a Coolie — Astonishment of Audience — The 
Wano Patriots — Invitation Accepted — Arranging his Reception 
— Battles by the Way — A Feast at Mess — A Disappointment- 
Micky Doj-ne — Full Private in the K.O.S.B. — Sir Bindon Blood 
Admires the View — Storming of the Malakand — The Return 
Journey — A Surprise Visit — A Curious Medallion 

MY father^ was a very hard man, and a 
noted rider. His nickname was " Plummy." 
One of his great feats of endurance was 
a ride from Sukker to Simla, a distance of seven 
hundred miles in seven days, in the month of June, 
that is in the hottest period of the year, through the 
hottest region in India. I asked him once how he 
managed about horses for the ride. He answered 
laconically : 

" Oh ! ddk-ed them out." 

In those days on the Frontier wheeled traffic was 
unknown and everybody rode, wherever business, 
pleasure, or duty called him. If the distance was 
long, horses were laid out by stages of from eight to 
ten miles each, sometimes more. A Cavalry regiment, 
out of courtesy to a brother Officer, would lay out 

* Major-General J. W. Y''ounghusband, c.s.i. 
280 



ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN 281 

horses for several stages both sides of its canton- 
ment to help him along. The regular charge for 
these troop horses, which went to the sowar who 
owned the horse, was Rs.2 per stage. Therefore 
anywhere near a Cavalry Cantonment my father was 
all right, but in his seven hundred mile ride he had 
to pass through big stretches of country where there 
were no cantonments. Through these districts he 
arranged with the Civil Authorities to provide Police 
patrol horses which were laid out in stages for him. 
Occasionally, however, there were long stretches to be 
passed through where there were not even Police 
patrol horses. Here he had to pick up what he could ; 
the village headman's pony, a scarecrow out of an 
ekka, anything on four legs. 

One of his mounts was lent him by Sir Sam 
Browne, then a subaltern. This was an " awful 
brute," as my father described it. He would neither 
walk, nor trot, and his canter was an earthquake. 
His only decent pace was at a full gallop. So my 
father just put him at that for the ten or twelve 
miles of his stage, which ended at Sir Sam Browne's 
house. It was a very hot evening, and he thought he 
must have about done for his host's horse. So on 
entering the house, like Lord Mayo on another 
occasion, he at once said : 

" A rattling good horse that of yours, Sam. You 
must sell him to me. What do you want for 
him ? " 

" Sell that horse ! Not I, Plummy, my boy. He's 
the best horse I ever had. Wouldn't sell him for 
worlds ! " 

Arrived at Simla, my father went to report his 
arrival, as in duty bound, to the Adjutant-General. 

" How do you do, Younghusband ? How are 
you ? Where do you come from ? " 

" Sukker, sir." 

" Sukker ! Where the hell is Sukker ? " 



282 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

" It is in Scinde, sir." 

" Scinde ! That's a long way off." 

" Yes, sir, seven hundred miles." 

" Seven hundred miles ! And how much leave 
have you got ? " 

" Ten days, sir." 

" Ten days ! And how the doose did you get here 
in ten days ? " 

" I rode, sir, in seven days." 

" Seven days, did you ? And how the blazes are 
you going to get back in three ? " 

" Well, sir, I was rather hoping you would kindly 
extend my leave a little." 

The Adjutant-General, who was a kind man, burst 
out laughing, and said : 

" Yes, by Jove, you must want a bit of rest. You 
can have your month's leave." 

So my father had his leave and then jogged back 
his seven hundred miles. 

The object of this tremendous ride was a young 
lady — my mother. 

Lord Lytton made a wonderfully true remark 
when he called the Babu the Irishman of India. 
Neither the Babu nor the Irishman have the least 
notion that they are being funny, and nothing is 
further from their thoughts. In each case it is 
entirely spontaneous and natural, but the mental 
projector is entirely dissimilar, one is Eastern and 
the other Western. The Irishman's chief manner of 
amusing the Englishman is to do so verbally, the 
Babu usually achieves the same effect on paper, or 
by telegram. Nearly all Indian soldiers, and the 
vast majority of the Indian peasantry, are un- 
acquainted with English, and therefore confide their 
correspondence to professional letter- writers, in a 
regiment, usually the Babu in the regimental office, 
and in villages the village postmaster. Here are 
two or three samples recently received : 



ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN 283 

loth April, 1915. 
Dear Madam, 

Received your kind letter together with two 
parcels — watch and the cloth. I thank you very 
much for the kind favour. The photo sent shall be 
a memory of the Bawa Sahib. ^ Please convey my 
hearty salam to my beloved Sahib, and I always 
pray God to prosper and lengthen the life of the 
General. My salam to Bawa Sahib, may God bless 
him. Please be good enough as to send my few lines 
to the Sahib in the field, and always be punctual to 
let me know about the welfare of the Sahib. Bugtoo 
(his son) pays his best respects to the Sahib and to 
you. Please take the trouble of sending me a knife, 
a fine cloth for four shirts and a blue cloth for the 
coat, etc. I am a poor man, please shower your 
manna occasionally. 

Thanking you in anticipation. 
With best respects. 

Yours most obedient servant, 

Lakhoo, Bahra (Bearer). ^ 

To the General Sahib Behadur. 

Sir, 

I most humbly and respectfully invite your 
kind consideration with the few following lines. 

My husband has been died or rather gallowed^ in 
Egypt from the last 2 months. There was none to 
support me except him, whose name was . 

Now a days I am without support and in much 
difficulties. I have no lands to give or produce me 
any kind of bread. 

* Baby Sahib, now twenty years old and a Lieutenant in the nth 
Hussars, but always a Baby to his old Bearer. 

* Was my servant for twenty-four years. 

3 He was hanged for murdering a British Officer. 



284 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

At this time you are the only man to sup- 
port me. 

I have not even a building to live me. So I beg 
you to give me any kind of support so that I may be 
able to pass my life with-out hesitation. Now a days 
my age is twelve years and I have nothing for my 
subsistance. There is a custom in our country that a 
woman can not go outside the home. At this time 
you are the man to support me. 

Hoping to hear in favourable regard towards me, 

Your most obedient servant, 



27-1-1916. 
Dear Sir, 

Since long I was much astonished to know 
where you went after leaving Aden, but thanks God 
that my astonishment changed into joy when I 
read in news papers that your special ability and 
old experience in military tact has won a great name 
for you near Bagdad in Arak Arb. To tell the truth, 
able officers like you will surely root out the enemies 
who know nothing save cruelty. Our blockade and 
enemies limited number of population lead them 
(enemies) to complete destruction. I have heard 
but could not clearly read the words of title recently 
given to you by Our King Empror, for which I 
congratulate you. I pray for your long life, health, 
high ranks and for the final success of Allies which is 
near at hand. Everything is going on quite well in 
India. 

Yours obediently, 



There are evidently some very clever people in 
the Post Office, the War Office, and the India Office, 
and they were all present at their desks on January 



ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN 285 

19th, 1917. A letter was written to me from India 
by an old servant, and it was thus addressed : 

Lundon 

Bare Kalaf ghar 

Pohanch Kar 
Janral Yung Husban 

Sahab Ko Mile. 

Whicli being interpreted is : 

London 

Having arrived at the great Club. 

To General Younghusband Sahib 

may it be delivered. 

That letter arrived in London on January 19th 
and was marked " War Office " in blue pencil by 
the Post Office. The War Office strategist scratched 
that out and wrote " India Office " in red ink. The 
India Office lightning operator scratched that out, 
put my Town address, not a club, in black ink, and 
popped it into the post. It was delivered to me 
first post on January 20th ! 

But the Babu sometimes displays uncommon 
humour in ordinary life. One day I was in a 
tremendous hurry to catch a train, and not being 
sure that my watch was right, dashed into the Post 
Office where the official time is kept, and asked the 
Babu what was the correct time. 

Smiling fatly and insinuatingly, he replied with the 
true Oriental flavour : 

" Your Honour knows best ! " 

Which besides being untrue did not help me 
at all. 

Another Babu was caught on the horns of a 
frightful dilemma. Sir Edmund Barrow and I 
strolled into the Post Office, where my regiment 



286 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

was stationed, about some letters. The Babu had 
lately been transferred from Peshawar, which was 
Sir Edmund's headquarters, to our little place. 

'' Well, Babu," said I, " how do you hke Mardan ? 
Happy and contented here ? " 

" Yes, Sahib, greatly happy. Out of Heaven, this 
is the best place." 

"Hullo! Babu," broke in Sir Edmund, "but 
what about Peshawar ? " 

" Oh ! sir," perspired the Babu in great per- 
plexity, " that also is out of Heaven. Indeed, sir " 
(with a deprecating smile), " I am a lucky man to be 
alive anywhere, so great is your Honour's kindness." 

We were being inspected by Sir George Luck, then 
Inspector-General of Cavalry, in the days when the 
first great Cavalry manoeuvres were held. The 
Camp of Roaring Luck it was called. And by way 
of beginning at the bottom and instructing everyone 
in his duties. Sir George Luck used to have up the 
Indian Officers and ask them various questions to 
test their knowledge of the drill book. In The Guides 
in those days were many stout old warriors who 
could neither read nor write, but who, having been 
in constant fights from their youth upwards, knew 
exactly what to do in a battle, and did it. To these, 
drill-books, writing and learning of all descrip- 
tions were anathema. Only postal clerks, and office 
Babus, and such-like inferior cattle pursued such 
peaceful arts as reading, and writing, and learning 
things. 

One old warrior with thirty years' service, many 
a wound, and a hard-earned medal or two, received 
such enquiries as were made to him by the General 
with the politest attention. To some he answered 
not, shaking his head wisely and tolerantly, as if 
humouring an inquisitive child. To any questions 
pressed upon him he would reply with engaging 
candour : 



ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN 287 

** Now what answer would your Honour give ? 
Your Honour knows everything. Who am I that 
I should instruct your Honour ? " 

At last Sir George Luck got rather nettled, and 
asked : 

" Well, what do you know ? " 

" Sahib, in my days there were only two Orders. 
One was ' Draw swords,' and the other was ' Charge.' 
I know these well." 

An Indian paper once rose to the commendable 
height of humour displayed in the following para- 
graph. Yet one cannot be quite sure whether the 
writer had the least intention of being humorous : 

** The Queen's Bounty is not infrequently be- 
stowed on women who present the British nation 
with triplets, but we believe it is rarely bestowed 
on men. An exception will doubtless be made in 
the case of Lieut. -Col. G. J. Younghusband, who 
has not only given birth to, but raised, three 
regiments, the 3rd Imperial Yeomanry, the 26th 
(Younghusband's Horse) Imperial Yeomanry, and 
the 27th Light Cavalry." 

The Indian is at all costs, even occasionally at 
the expense of truth, tactful. 

One day Sir James Willcocks was inspecting a 
regiment belonging to our Brigade, and the hour 
assigned was 10 a.m. At that hour the regiment was 
drawn up to a hair's-breadth, and ready to receive 
the inspecting General. But as minute after minute 
passed and no General appeared, it was thought that 
some accident must have occurred, for Sir James was 
a most punctual man. 

At length, at twenty minutes past ten, the General 
and his staff appeared pricking at haste across the 
plain, and exactly as they arrived at the saluting 
base the sonorous voice of the guard-room gong 
sounded ten. 

'' A most tactful sentry that," remarked Sir 



288 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

James. "I am really twenty minutes late, kept by 
urgent business. Very sorry." 

What made this tactful proceeding possible is that 
outside all Indian guard-rooms the gong is struck 
by hand. 

The daily orderly-room in an Indian regiment is 
called a durbar, and is in some regiments held in the 
open, under a big tree in patriarchal fashion, or on 
the edge of a veranda. At this durbar all are 
entitled to attend, whether they have business or 
not ; it is an open Court. Many curious cases 
quite outside Military Law and jurisdiction come 
before the Commanding Officer at these durbars : 
domestic, social, and religious. It was in this last 
connection that an infuriated Gurkha one day stood 
forth. He was perfectly livid with rage and looked 
like blood, so I noticed one or two hefty and ready 
fellows close up to him to prevent mischief. 

A Gurkha, as one of his tribal customs, as well as 
from religious observance, cuts his hair quite short all 
over and has a parting shaved down the middle, but 
leaves on the top of his scalp one long lock of hair. 
This lock of hair is very carefully preserved for a 
specific reason. 

Apparently the Gurkha and another soldier, who 
was a Pathan, had a quarrel, and so vigorous did this 
become that the Gurkha's cap got knocked off. This 
revealed the little lock of hair on top of his head, and 
the Pathan, who by nature was a bit of a yahoo, in the 
course of the further conflict, seized this, and being 
a man of some strength, pulled it out bodily. 

Friends then intervened, and the Gurkha was led 
off, mad with rage and pain, to make his complaint 
before the Colonel in open durbar. This complaint 
and its preface put into plain language appeared to 
be that not only was the Pathan a pig, and the son 
of a pig, but that his mother was a lady of easy 
virtue, who had ended her life at the stake. Regard- 



ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN 289 

ing the Pathan's sister he had not a good word to 
say ; indeed, according to the Gurkha the whole of 
his female relations were such as would make any 
respectable person blush. This was all by way of 
an opening address, and bore no necessary con- 
nection with the truth, or with the subject-matter of 
the complaint. The real complaint, when we got to 
it, was this : 

" As your Honour knows, we Gurkhas grow a tuft 
of hair on our heads, in accordance with the orders 
of our religion. We lose caste, and are heavily fined 
if we cut it off, and for this reason. When the 
agents of the Deity come to take us to Heaven it is 
by that lock, and that lock alone, will he lift us 
up, for then he can take several at the same time. 
Now that accursed Mohammedan, out of religious 
spite, has torn off mine ; observe thou, who alone 
art my Father and my Mother and Protector of the 
Poor, here it is in my hand." 

And he produced it, and flourished it aloft. 

" That's very unfortunate," said the Colonel, 
" very unfortunate indeed. But look here, Dan Bir, 
you must not think of leaving us yet awhile. You 
must just stop in the regiment, and put off going to 
Heaven, till you have grown another lock of hair. 
Be content. Be no more angry." 

Then, turning sternly to the Pathan, he said : 

" And you, Shah Jehan, shall pay the fine which is 
due from Dan Bir to his spiritual leader, for having 
lost his lock. And any more horseplay of that class, 
and out of this regiment you go. Ek dum, like a 
shot. You understand." 

** I am content," said the Gurkha. 

" As your Honour orders," said the Pathan. 

And both saluted and went. 

Mr. Keir Hardie not many years ago undertook 
a tour of India, with the modest intention appar- 
ently of showing the natives that they were a 



290 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

downtrodden race. He could not speak one word 
of the language, and therefore every remark he 
made, and every speech he uttered, had to be 
translated by interpreters. These were supplied by 
the small and insignificant body of disappointed 
lawyers, hailing mostly from Lower Bengal, who 
assumed to speak on behalf of 300,000,000 fellow 
subjects. It was rather unfortunate that Mr. Keir 
Hardie's last speech did not happen to be his first. 
For though his visit was, to put it mildly, a frost 
from beginning to end, he would in that case have 
had no audience at all. 

In this last speech, just before he sailed home- 
ward, he brought out the time-honoured tag that he 
was " a labouring man," as if nobody laboured 
except those who build brick walls, or lay railway 
sleepers. Most unfortunately, the interpreter on the 
spur of the moment translated the word " labouring 
man " into " coolie." The audience, which con- 
sisted of anything but coolies, grew suddenly cold 
at this astonishing revelation. A member of 
Parliament a coolie, impossible ! They must have 
mistaken the speaker's meaning. But when the 
orator not only went on, through his interpreter 
calling himself a coolie, but added that he was a 
coolie speaking to coolies, several highly respectable 
persons found that they had urgent business else- 
where. 

Next day it appeared in all the papers that Mr. 
Keir Hardie, though he called himself a Member of 
Parliament, was really only a coolie, as he had been 
careful to explain. And who on earth cared one 
way or another what a coolie thought, or said ? 

That gives the Indian attitude of mind in a 
concrete form. No respectable Indian audience 
would for one moment consent to be addressed by a 
sweeper, the lowest caste of all. Nor on any grounds 
whatever, political or social, would it submit to 



ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN 291 

hearing the views of a coohe, who is only just one 
rung above a sweeper. The professional agitators 
are usually of the petty clerk class, whose parents 
have been well enough off to send their sons to 
England to be called to the Bar. These return in 
English clothes, and with a fine flow of words, and 
poison their compatriots with ill-digested theories 
about self-government, the rights of nations, and the 
Hke. 

During Mr. Keir Hardie's Indian tour it occurred 
to some bored subalterns in a Frontier Mess that 
they might get a little amusement for themselves, 
and at the same time considerably enliven Mr. Keir 
Hardie's tour. They were stationed at Wano, which 
lies some one hundred and twenty miles from the 
nearest railway station on the North- West Frontier. 
The first sixty of these miles can be driven in a 
tonga, but the last sixty miles lie up the rock-strewn 
bed of the Gomal Pass, and have to be ridden. 

No man can go up that Pass even with an escort. 
He can only go up on stated days twice a week, and 
then only with the heights on both sides held by 
Infantry picquets. This is because the Gomal Pass 
runs through the Mahsud Waziri country, inhabited 
by fourteen thousand armed and determined raiders. 
There was not the least chance that Mr. Keir 
Hardie would receive even the most enticing and 
courteous invitation from one of His Majesty's 
Messes ; that was not his role. Though curiously 
enough, if he had known it, it would have greatly 
enhanced his prestige amongst Indians to be asked 
to an Officers' Mess. For the warrior Sahib is a 
great personage in Indian eyes. 

The bright geniuses of the Officers' Mess therefore 
sank their identity under the more engaging bait of 
the " Wano Patriots." A telegram was consequently 
forwarded to Mr. Keir Hardie, m.p., from the Wano 
Patriots, expressing unbounded admiration for him 



292 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

and his propaganda, and asking him to pay a visit, 
and dehver a lecture to the down-trodden patriots of 
Wano. 

In due course a reply was received from Mr. 
Keir Hardie, sympathising with the down-trodden 
condition of the patriots, and promising to pay 
them an early visit. These telegrams can be seen in 
the album at the Wano Mess. 

So far so good, and, further, the patriots deter- 
mined that Mr. Keir Hardie should have the time 
of his life. First they arranged that the distinguished 
M.P. should have as comfortable a pony as possible, 
for perchance he had never been on a horse in his 
life, and sixty miles is a hard ride even for a tough 
rider. They did not want him to arrive peevish. 
But they did want him to arrive in a chastened 
spirit. 

It was therefore arranged that though the Pass 
should be even more securely picqueted than usual, 
a tremendous battle was to take place. 

If the Mahsud - Waziris furnished the desired 
enemy, well and good; but if it was one of their 
quiet days, and none were on the war-path, then 
other arrangements were to be made. 

The picquets were, in this latter unlikely con- 
tingency, carefully instructed to enter into a heavy 
engagement at each spot as the cavalcade came in 
sight, and lots of shots were to pass at a discreet 
distance over the honoured M.P.'s head. To the 
unaccustomed, or even the accustomed, a bullet 
passing within fifty yards seems to whistle past 
one's ears. 

On arrival at the Mess it was proposed to give 
Mr. Keir Hardie the best dinner, and the most 
hospitable time of his life. Thus deftly educating 
him up to the understanding that all Officers are not 
popinjays who live chiefly in or about ladies' boudoirs, 
and sleep on feather beds. But that some of them, 



ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN 293 

at any rate, live year in and year out with their 
lives in their hands, holding the outposts of our 
Empire, and at the end of the day can dine as 
usual. 

It was a source of keen disappointment to the 
patriots at the last moment to receive a telegram to 
say that Mr. Keir Hardie regretted that he could 
not fulfil his engagement with the Wano Patriots. 

It was a pity indeed, for it would undoubtedly 
have enlarged his views greatly on the subject of 
labour, not necessarily making bricks and mortar, 
but for the Empire. 



It was on the day before we stormed the Malakand 
Pass on the way to the Relief of Chitral, that Sir 
Robert Low and his Staff were riding forward 
slowly past the long line of troops marching up the 
road. As we came alongside the King's Own 
Scottish Borderers, Sir Bindon Blood, the Chief of 
the Staff, turned to me, and said : 

" Now isn't that a particularly fine piece of 
colouring ? " pointing away from the troops, " The 
lights and shades on that mountain are particularly 

fine. The way the greys blend into the blues " 

and so on for quite a long time. 

If S^r Bindon had not been a particularly 
abstemijus man, one would have suspected some- 
thing stronger than tea for breakfast. However, 
as in duty bound, I answered, " Yes, sir," and "No, 
sir," and " Quite so, sir," but secretly thought that 
his mind had become temporarily unhinged. 

Suddenly he stopped his high-flown poetic and 
artistic comments on the border mountains, and, 
turning to me with a grin, remarked : 

** I was only keeping your attention and mine off 
the K.O.S.B.'s." 

" Why so, sir ? " 



294 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

" Well, just because I was afraid you or I might 
recognise a friend in the ranks." 

Then he gave a merry wink, and rode on to talk to 
Sir Robert Low. 

Later in the day, happening to meet an Officer of 
the K.O.S.B.'s, I asked him straight, what friend of 
mine was in the ranks of his regiment. 

" Don't you know ? " he replied. 

" No, I don't." 

" Then," viewing the red tabs with suspicion, 
" wait till you find out." And he smiled mys- 
teriously, and found a job elsewhere to do. 

It was only next day, during the battle, that I 
heard accidentally that Micky Doyne, Colonel of 
the 4th Dragoon Guards, was fighting disguised as a 
private soldier in the ranks of the King's Own 
Scottish Borderers. 

He was a gallant Irishman, was Micky Doyne, 
but in all his soldiering had never seen a shot fired, 
and he was determined to do so. Stationed at 
Rawal Pindi, not far distant, he got a few days' 
leave for shooting, quite appropriately. But how 
or by what subterfuges, history does not relate, got 
taken on as a private in the K.O.S.B.'s. He fought 
through the action with great gallantry, and was 
one of the foremost in carrying the Malakand Pass 
with the bayonet. 

That night his leave was up, and through the 
same kind agency, managed to slip away on his 
trudge back forty miles to the railway. 

About midnight, Raleigh Egerton,i of The Guides, 
was awakened by someone fumbling at his tent door. 
Seizing his revolver he asked sharply : 

'' Who's there ? " 

" Want to speak to you a minute," answered 
a tired voice, in English. 

Opening the tent door, Raleigh Egerton saw 

» Major-General Sir Raleigh Egerton, k.c.b. 



ODDS AND ENDS, MOSTLY INDIAN 295 

revealed an exceeding begrimed and unkempt private 
of the K.O.S.B.'s. 

'' Give us a drink and a biscuit," said the tired 
private. 

Thinking that he had already had too much 
whisky to be thus knocking up an Officer at mid- 
night, Raleigh Egerton was about to order him off 
with great sternness, when he added : 

" Fm Doyne of the 4th D.G.'s." 

This rather confirmed the Officer in his opinion. 
The man was not only drunk, but so drunk as to 
try and pass himself off as the Colonel of a Cavalry 
regiment. 

Explanations, however, ensued, and the adventure 
was told. So with a good meal and a short rest, 
Micky Doyne was sped on his way. 



One of the old Standing Orders in Fort Abazai, 
one of the Frontier forts, reads : 

" The custom obtaining amongst Officers of 
shooting at natives across the river is reprehensible, 
and should be discontinued." 

This order was issued in the days when rifles were 
first invented, and owned only by a few Officers as 
a sort of new toy. In the boredom of garrisoning an 
isolated fort, young Officers apparently used to sit 
on top of the Keep in the evening and practise 
shooting, usually taking as a target something as 
large as a haystack at three hundred yards distance. 
Occasionally, however, without for a moment think- 
ing that a bullet would carry so far, or that there 
was the remotest chance of hitting so small a 
thing as a man, they used to take a shot across 
the river. Much as a boy would take a chance 
shot with a catapult at a bird at an impossible 
distance. 

Apparently some of these shots went uncommonly 



296 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

near some villagers, who naturally complained. 
Hence the order. 



For many years attached to my person has been 
a gold medallion. On one side is engraved : 

KEEP YOUR TEMPER 
TILL 10 A.M. 

And on the other : 

AND YOU'LL KEEP IT 
ALL DAY. 

The possession of this medallion was well known 
in my Brigade, and a candid and confiding subaltern 
once told me that a pious hope went round, when 
field days, manoeuvres, and other obnoxious forms 
of exercise were in progress, that it had not acci- 
dentally been left at home. 

Perhaps they may be issued to all Field Officers, 
Colonels, and Generals, The A.I.S. or Anti- Irascible 
Society. 



CHAPTER XIX 

MESS CUSTOMS 

The King's Health — Across the Water — Some Regiments Absolved— 
Undoubted Loyalty of Old — Various Customs in Drinking the 
King's Health — " Gentlemen, the Vice " — The Regent's Allow- 
ance — A Backhander — A Naval Tradition — " A Glass of Wine 
with You " — Treating in Messes — Mufti at Dinner — A Sub- 
altern's Instruction — Ante-room Etiquette — Scotch Regiments 
and St. Andrew — A " Quaich " — Pipers at Mess— Irish Regiments 
and St. Patrick — Cricket the Day After — The Lost Wicket- 
keeper — Welsh Regiments and St. David — Passing the Leek — 
The Italian Priest — The Senior Officer at Mess — An Angry 
Doctor — Six Months' Discipline — Life in a Mess — Mess Ex- 
penses — How to Live — Young Officers of To-day — An Old 
Soldier to a Young One — Answering Salutes — The King's 
Uniform 

I HAVE often wondered why no one has written a 
book on Regimental Customs. Perhaps someone 
has, and I have missed it. But, anyway, it is 
evidently not well circulated, or we should not see 
customs changing and dying out, as we do now 
sometimes. 

Let us begin with the drinking of the King's 
health at Mess. As probably most people know, the 
origin of this toast was only very remotely con- 
nected with any consuming desire for the well-being 
of the reigning sovereign. Far from it. It was, on 
the contrary, a toast ordered by the King to be 
drunk, as a test of each individual Officer's loyalty 
to himself and his dynasty. Officers who longed for 
the return of the Stuarts, and meanwhile were not 
desirous of losing their commissions, got over the 
difficulty by passing the wine-glass, before drinking 
from it, across the water in their finger-bowls. The 

297 



298 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

toast thus became " The King " (across the water). 
All that is now, of course, a thing of the far past, and 
when Officers drink the King's health they do so 
with the utmost loyalty, and add, " God bless 
him." 

In different regiments different ceremonial is used 
in drinking the King's health, whilst in some 
regiments the King's health is not drunk at all. 
The origin of this omission is that these regiments 
were in ancient days so undoubtedly loyal to the 
King, that they were exempted from the test of the 
toast. There are certain regiments with undoubted 
history on their side in support, but there are also 
spurious imitators. The writer remembers one 
being exposed many years ago. The General, when 
dining with the regiment, noticed that they did not 
drink the Sovereign's health. An official inquiry 
was sent next day asking the reason. In reply was 
trotted out the old loyalty chestnut. But the 
General knew a little better, and pointed out that 
the regiment was not bom, or bred, or thought of, 
till a hundred years later. He ordered that in 
future they should drink the Sovereign's health once 
a week, without fail. 

In regiments which drink the King's health there 
are several varieties in method. The most general 
custom is, after the wine has been passed round, for 
the President to stand up and say, " Mr. Vice, The 
King." Mr. Vice then stands up and says, " Gentle- 
men, The King." Everyone then stands up and the 
band plays a bar or two of " God Save the King." 
Led by the Colonel each Officer then vociferates 
more or less loudly, " The King, God bless him " 
and sips his wine. This ceremony generally takes 
place once a week, and is followed by the toast, 
** The Prince of Wales," in regiments connected with 
that Prince. 

In other regiments the Royal toasts are drunk 



MESS CUSTOMS 299 

sitting, and every night. In the Navy, too, the toast 
is drunk sitting. The origin in both cases may 
possibly have been safety against the perils of the 
sea, or a slippery floor. Some regiments leave out 
" Mr. Vice " altogether, and the President gives the 
toast direct. I remember, on one solemn occasion, 
the President, rising and with great portentiality 
and emphasis, giving the opening "Mr. Vice, The 
Queen." Mr. Vice, who was busy talking, taken by 
surprise, jumped to his feet, and briskly gave the 
toast, " Gentlemen, The Vice — as you were. The 
Queen." 

A somewhat unpopular innovation has been 
introduced in India, directing Officers to drop the 
old title that has lived for centuries in the Mess, and 
to drink to " The King-Emperor." Regiments do 
not like these changes in ancient regimental customs, 
and, as a matter of fact, like the finger-bowl Officers, 
they very often elude such orders, except when a 
General or someone is present who might take 
notice. 

The President and Vice-President are appointed 
weekly by roster. The origin of the Regent's 
allowance is well known, but may perhaps be 
repeated. George IV, when Regent, was dining 
at a regimental Mess and he noticed that several 
Officers did not take part in drinking the King's 
health. The Regent enquired the reason of this, 
and was told that the Officers in question, though 
perfectly loyal, could not afford to drink wine. 
" Tut ! tut ! that will never do," said the Regent. 
" Every regiment shall have two bottles of wine 
free every night, to drink the King's health, at my 
expense." And he was as good as his word. 

When the writer first joined the Service these two 
bottles, one of port and one of Madeira, were put on 
the table every night, free of cost. Nowadays the 
allowance still continues, but is usually taken in 



300 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

money, instead of wine, and goes towards general 
Mess expenses. While on the subject of wine it may 
be mentioned that wine at Mess, as indeed now in 
private houses, is passed from right to left round 
the table, and may on no account go backwards, 
except with special permission. For instance, if an 
Officer wants a glass of wine and has inadvertently 
allowed the decanter to pass, he addresses the 
President, or Vice, whoever is nearer, and says, 
" Mr. President, or Mr. Vice, may I have a back- 
hander ? " I do not know the origin of this custom, 
though some say that it is the result of an ancient 
superstition that the wine went sour if passed the 
wrong way. Others say its origin was to ensure that 
all drank fair. In the Navy the tradition is that the 
ship will sink within a year, if the wine is passed 
the wrong way. 

In some regiments a loving-cup goes round to 
celebrate certain occasions, and whilst each Officer 
is drinking, his next-door neighbour steps out and 
stands back to back with him, so that he shall not, 
as of old was apparently possible, be stabbed in the 
back, whilst his head is buried in the loving-cup. 

It is not necessary to drink the King's health in 
wine. King Edward issued an order that his health 
might be drunk in water, and this still holds good 
though seldom literally acted upon ; whiskey and 
soda in a wine-glass being the substitute. In days 
gone by there were many occasions on which an 
Officer had to stand drinks all round, either to 
celebrate a promotion, or as a fine for some violation 
of regimental rules and regulations. The matter is 
now entirely voluntary, and an Officer rarely stands 
drinks round ; unless he has won the Derby, or 
come into a fortune. 

There was also an old custom, now quite dead, of 
drinking a glass of wine with a brother Officer at 
Mess. The procedure was to call the Mess Sergeant, 



MESS CUSTOMS 301 

or a waiter, and say to him, " Take this bottle to 
Captain Hallows and ask him to give me the pleasure 
of drinking a glass of wine with me." Hallows' glass 
was then filled, and the two nodded genially at each 
other, and drank their wine. 

Rather an insidious, and deadly, and really rather 
vulgar offshoot of this courteous custom began to 
get into some messes. That is the habit of Officers 
standing each other drinks, at any time of the day, 
in the ante-room ; for ail the world as if one of His 
Majesty's Officers' Messes was a public-house, or 
American bar. And the vulgarity was emphasised by 
adding such catchwords as " so long " and " here's 
to you," which came from the same not very 
aristocratic haunts. 

An Officers' Mess is, of course, each individual 
Officer's private house, and it is just as much a 
faux pas to offer an Officer a drink in his own Mess, 
as it would be to offer one's civilian host a whiskey 
and soda in his own house, and pay his butler a 
shilling for it. On one occasion I saw a very smart 
and very correct Colonel of a crack Cavalry regiment 
nearly burst into bits at being offered a drink in his 
own Mess, by a young veterinary Lieutenant who 
was temporarily attached as an honorary member. 
Of course most Colonels rigidly taboo this innovation, 
for not only is it against the ancient etiquette of the 
Service, and also rather vulgar, but it indirectly 
promotes large mess-bills, which no one wants. 

A certain number of regiments in former days 
used to wear mufti at dinner, and some do still ; 
amongst these were the Household Cavalry when 
stationed in London ; and The Guides and regiments 
of the Punjab Frontier Force in India. The Foot 
Guards do not have a Mess in London, but take 
their meals at the Guards' Club. 

There is a certain etiquette on joining a regiment 
which a boy should know. If he has a friend already in 



302 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

the regiment he should look him up first, and together 
go and see the Adjutant. The Adjutant will then 
take the newly joined sub. in hand and will take him 
round to see the Colonel, and then to the Mess to 
introduce him to any Officers who may be in. In 
some regiments a newly joined subaltern has to 
report himself in uniform to the Colonel at the 
regimental office, but if things so fit in, the Colonel's 
acquaintance will have been made unofficially tlje 
day before, and a formal arrival report dispensed 
with. He is also asked to dine with the Mess his 
first night, as a guest, and sits next the Colonel. 

When I joined the 17th Foot, the senior subaltern 
took me in charge to teach me all things, and in- 
cidentally that there was no regiment like our own. 
That the others, poor things, did their best, but it 
wasn't much — comparatively ! At the same time, 
never by word, sign, or deed, was one to let this 
appear, for that would indeed be bad form. These 
were the little grains of esprit de corps which were 
being sown, and which grow into that great and 
good tree which leads regiments to win great victories 
against great odds, century after century. 

Another little point in etiquette we were taught 
which now sometimes appears to have been for- 
gotten : we were told to call a subaltern, or a 
Captain, by his terminal name tout court Jones, 
De Vere, or Castlerock, and never by any chance 
Captain Jones or Lieutenant De Vere, or Lord 
Castlerock ; nor, on the other hand, unless he 
chanced to be a Sandhurst pal, or an old acquaint- 
ance, by his nickname, till later allowed that 
privilege. Then a Major was always to be addressed 
as " Major," and not as Major Smith or as Smith 
alone, much less by his nickname, " Blobs." 

Exemptions were allowed on the border line, that 
is to say a very senior Captain would not necessarily 
'* Major " a very junior Major. Top of all came the 



MESS CUSTOMS 303 

Colonel, and he was always to be addressed as 
"Sir" or "Colonel." No other Officer in the 
regiment was ever to be addressed as " Sir," except 
on parade. There, of course, a subaltern a day 
senior was to be called " Sir," by his junior. Then 
came the knotty point of Brevet Major, and Brevet 
Lieutenant-Colonel : and the rule for these was for 
us juniors to call them " Major " and " Colonel " 
(but never " Sir " off parade), whilst those near to, 
or senior to them, regimentally, called them by their 
surnames. 

These good old rules, which were traditional, have 
got lost sight of somewhat both ways. In some 
regiments slackness has been introduced, whilst in 
others an over-official air has come into being. 
Nothing is more absurd than to hear a subaltern, or 
Captain, calling a Major " Sir " every second word at 
lawn-tennis or polo ; and nothing is more in- 
appropriate than to hear young Officers calling field- 
officers by their nicknames, or even surnames. 

There are one or two ante-room customs which 
would perhaps hardly be worth mentioning were 
they not in some danger of being lost sight of. It 
might seem superfluous to mention that when a 
guest, or a stranger, enters the ante-room, it is the 
custom of the Service for the Officers present to get 
up and welcome him, whoever he may be. Yet a 
recent experience shows that a hint in this direction 
is not unneeded. The writer recently experienced 
the uncomfortable sensation, when calling on the 
Mess of a well-known Cavalry regiment, of being 
completely ignored by everyone — except by whom ? 
The Riding Master, and he was a ranker ! Dis- 
courtesy of this sort is unpardonable, and it need 
hardly be added very much opposed to the traditions 
of the Service. 

Again, though the whole spirit of a mess is for 
Officers to live together in friendly informaHty when 



304 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

not on parade, yet the good sense of the Officers 
themselves has maintained small points of etiquette 
which, without being in the least derogatory to the 
individual, encourages the spirit of courteous inter- 
course between those of different ages and ranks. 
Thus in no well-regulated regiment would the last- 
joined subaltern, nor indeed any Officer, remain 
buried in an arm-chair with his feet on the fender 
stool when his Colonel came into the room. He 
would perfectly naturally get up and say : " Good 
morning, sir," and if he happened to have the cosy 
chair, offer it to the Colonel. It is ante-room 
etiquette for the junior always to address the senior 
first with such ordinary greetings as ** Good morn- 
ing " and " Good evening." 

There used to be an old rule that no bets were to 
be made till the wine had been round at dinner, or, 
rather, as it was expressed then, " till the cloth had 
been removed." Such a rule was quite necessary, 
if only for self-protection from a most boring craze, 
now happily dead. In some messes, in those days, 
you could not say anything, or do anything, without 
someone immediately wanting to bet you that you 
were a liar — to put it bluntly — or that he could put 
up someone to beat you, or your nominee, at what- 
ever the game might be. Quite large sums were won 
and lost, in what most people thought a singularly 
idiotic manner. The rule remains but it is rarely 
required, or mentioned. 

Another dreadful custom has survived in some 
regiments, and that is sitting at table for hours 
and hours after dinner, especially on guest nights. 
The awful and appalling boredom of this proceeding 
is only equalled by its stupidity. In old days Officers, 
and the gentry at large, sat long after dinner in 
order to drink bottle after bottle of port wine. That 
was a reason for sitting, good or bad. But now 
British Officers are the most abstemious of men, and 



MESS CUSTOMS 305 

it is the rarest thing in the world to see an officer 
take more than one, or two, small glasses of wine 
after dinner, which he finishes in ten minutes. Yet 
in some regiments they sit on, and on, for hours, 
doing nothing but talk and smoke cigarettes ; both 
of which can equally well be done in the ante-room 
in comfortable arm-chairs, and thereby free the 
boys for bridge and billiards. 

This is because one of the old rules of the Service 
has been forgotten. That rule is that directly the 
wine has been round any Officer can get up and go 
out without discourtesy or disrespect ; unless, of 
course, there is a regimental guest, in which case all 
wait till the Colonel moves ; and he, if he has the 
remotest tact, will move as soon as he sees that such 
is the general feeling. 

It is now strictly against the King's Regulations 
for Officers to give plate to the Mess, and the rule is 
rigidly observed in some regiments, and entirely 
disregarded in others ! This is one of those cases 
where it is much better to leave matters of a private 
nature to the discretion of the Officers. The British 
Officer is a rum devil in that way ; he is very easily 
led if approached in a gentlemanly way, but very 
hard to drive. Above all he hates having his private 
affairs interfered with, hates being ordered to drop 
time-honoured old customs, and hates being ordered 
to adopt new customs he disapproves of. 

Scotch regiments make a special feature of 
St. Andrew's Day and New Year's Day, and those 
nights at their Messes are very merry ones. Our 
brethren across the Border have a quaint custom 
on this night, which in some Scottish regiments is 
extended to every guest night. Towards the end of 
dinner the Mess Sergeant hands to each Officer in 
turn a small shallow cup with two handles, full of 
liqueur whiskey. This is called a " quaich," I 
believe (but I do not know how to spell it). Anyway, 



3o6 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

call it what you may, what you have to do is to 
stand up and drink off the whiskey in it at a gulp. 
You then twist the cup over and outwards, and kiss 
the bottom, to show it is empty. 

In all Scottish regiments, whether Highland or 
Lowland, there are swarms of pipers, and these 
march round the table after dinner, and make what 
is to some people a cheerful noise. Each piper has 
on his pipes the banner of his Captain ; the arms, 
and escutcheons, and so forth, of the said bold 
Captain being emblazoned forth thereon. After 
walking round the table several times the pipers line 
up behind the Colonel, and the principal guest. If 
the principal guest is a Scotchman he puts on a sort 
of ecstatic air and drums the table with his fingers, 
and in extreme cases beats time with his feet. If, 
on the other hand, the principal guest happens to be 
an Englishman or an Irishman, his face, and 
demeanour, are quite worth studying. 

The Englishman starts with a faint and fatuous 
smile, half out of politeness, and half to show a 
kindly tolerance towards these brave bare-legged 
barbarians, and their ideas of music. Gradually, 
however, especially if he has had much wine, the 
noise gets to his head and bewilders him, and you 
see that same wild sort of look come into his eyes, 
that you see in the face of him who seeks the 
steward, on a rough day, on the Irish boat. 

A real old hand, who likes Highland regiments, 
and loves dining with them, but hates pipes, goes 
prepared with a pair of ear wads, such as Naval 
Officers pop into their ears before the firing of big 
guns commences in a battleship turret, but he must 
be exceedingly careful not to be caught inserting 
them. An Irishman, having a weird instrument of 
his own, not unlike a pipe, is more inured to 
this form of hardship ; but I have seen him taken 
two ways. Either he got sadder, and sadder, and 



MESS CUSTOMS 307 

sadder, till he finally wept on the Colonel's shoulder ; 
or, on the contrary, the martial strains rose to his 
head, and he started strange and penetrating yells, 
such as the Scotch themselves indulge in. 

In his own Irish Mess, and on his own St. Patrick's 
night the Irish Officer is seen to great advantage, 
and one feels quite sure that St. Patrick himself must 
have a very bad headache next morning. On one 
occasion we were dining with the i8th Royal Irish 
on St. Patrick's night, and next day several of us had 
to go to a neighbouring Cantonment to play in a 
cricket match. We had a reserved railway carriage 
in the siding, and after a most jovial and enjoyable 
evening ending with supper at 2 a.m., we went to bed 
in our railway carriage. 

Next day about eleven o'clock we were collecting 
ourselves for cricket, when we missed our stalwart 
wicket-keeper, six feet two inches in height and 
weighing fourteen stone. Enquiries were set afoot 
amongst guards, stationmasters, servants, drivers, 
coolies, but not a trace of him could be found. 

" By Jove, I believe we have left him behind in 
the i8th Royal Irish Mess ! " suggested someone. 

Hasty dash to the telegraph office, and urgent 
wire sent : 

" Have lost our wicket-keeper. Please make 
enquiries." 

Not long afterwards came the mysterious answer : 

" Wicket-keeper found in tablecloth, despatched 
by next train." 

Just as we were sitting down to lunch up rolled a 
very little tum-tum with a very large man in it. Our 
lost wicket-keeper ! 

Of course he was received with roars of laughter 
and chaff, and when these had subsided, he made his 
explanation. 

" You see, boys, it was hke this. After supper 
me and some of the other boys got talking. And 



3o8 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

what with one thing and another, one said, how 
mighty clever it was the way the Sergeant, and Tom 
O'Grady the head waiter, whipped ofi the side sUps, 
the whole length of the table, and never spilt a glass, 
or spoon, or gave anyone a flick in the face either. 
Another of the boys pooh-poohed this, and said he 
could do it easy ; and it was only a matter of 
screwing the blamed thing up tight, and giving a 
sharp pull. So what with one thing and another 
they got the slips put on again, and then we had a 
sort of match, starboard side against port side, to 
see who could whip the slips off quickest. It wasn't 
long before they got tired of that, and then some- 
body, bad cess to him, suggested doing the same 
thing only with one of the boys screwed up in each 
slip, and they voted me in for one. Well, of course, 
a slip wasn't big enough for me, so they got a whole 
tablecloth, and they laid me along at full length in it. 
Then about four of the boys at each end wound the 
tablecloth opposite ways till I must have looked like a 
long white sausage. Then one of the young savages 
gave a whoo !; hoop ! and one lot let go, and the 
other pulled, and I sped along that polished table 
like a greased pig, and came with no light bump on 
the floor at the other end. Then they tied up the 
two long ends of the tablecloth and left me, for 
some other devilment. Sure and I was a bit tired 
perhaps, for thereupon I went to sleep quite snug 
and happy, and didn't wake till the Mess Sergeant 
fell over me coming to see about laying breakfast 
this morning." 

In Welsh regiments they have a curious custom 
on that night of the year on which they eat a feast, 
and drink libations, to their patron saint, St. David. 
Everyone, who has not previously done so, is 
obhged on this occasion to " pass the leek," in other 
words eat a raw onion ; and this is done with much 
ceremony. As it comes to each novice's turn he has 



MESS CUSTOMS 309 

to stand up on his chair, and behind him is grouped 
the regimental goat held by two drummer boys, and 
several more of the regimental drummers, and the 
Mess Sergeant. The Mess Sergeant then hands the 
victim a plate full of leeks, and he, if wise, chooses 
the smallest he can hastily discover. This he 
solemnly eats, whilst the drummers beat a fanfare 
and the goat wistfully contemplates a charge on his 
immediate rear, and the company generally chaffs, 
derides, and cheers him. And so on to the next and 
the next. 

Dining once on this auspicious occasion with the 
23rd Royal Welsh Fusiliers there was an Italian 
Roman Catholic priest present, evidently inured to 
this rich diet, who thought that he was meant to eat 
the whole plateful of leeks, which he proceeded to 
do with great gusto. And the more he ate, the more 
everyone cheered him, and the more they cheered, 
the more the priest smiled and the more he ate ; 
till at last everyone was in hysterics. Which hilarity 
apparently so weakened the two boys holding the 
goat that they let him slip. Whereupon he promptly 
charged the next thing ahead, which happened to be 
the holy father's chair, and over went that zealous 
prelate backwards. For a few moments there was a 
fine medley of drummer boys, priest, drums, goats, 
and onions. 

Everyone also on St. David's night has to wear a 
leek in his buttonhole, which in old days must have 
been distinctly bad for one's clothes, and made them 
smell long, and strong. But nowadays it has been 
ordained that one may wear a glass imitation of the 
same, and this somewhat tempers the wind to one's 
female relations when one gets home. It is not 
so much the leek itself that is unpleasant to eat, 
though most people would rather pass it by, but it 
is the aftermath to oneself and one's friends. For 
the whole of the rest ^ of the evening everything 



310 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

tastes of onions ; one's wine, coffee, cigars, whiskey 
and soda ; and as for one's friends who are not in 
the same plight, they say, " Tush ! tush " and 
"Begone." 

p- At Mess the senior combatant Officer presides, 
be he only a subaltern. For a Mess dinner is a 
parade which every unmarried Officer must attend 
unless he gets leave of absence, and the senior com- 
batant Officer is for the time being responsible for 
the discipline and order of the Mess. 

An Officer has no longer personally to ask the 
Colonel for leave of absence from dinner, he merely 
writes his name in a book as " dining out." And 
should he omit this formality his crime is brought 
home to him by having to pay for a dinner he has 
not eaten. 

Once at a Mess in a neighbouring station one 
guest-night it so happened that the senior com- 
batant Officer was a subaltern, and he, according to 
procedure and the established custom of the Service, 
went in to dinner first, taking the guest of the 
evening with him. There happened at the time to 
be attached to the regiment a Surgeon-Captain, as 
they were then called, who took great umbrage at 
this, and made himself rather unpleasant. He said 
he was senior to the subaltern, and should take in 
the guest of the evening. But the matter did not 
stop there, for next day he started writing official 
letters on the subject. Then, as the subaltern 
expresses it, he " got it on the neck," for the 
King's Regulations are perfectly clear on the 
subject. 

He not only '* got it on the neck," but a final 
paragraph commanded that he should be " trans- 
ferred to the Corps of Guides for discipline." 

I don't think we were hard on him, but the rough 
and ready, good-natured chaff of a big Mess does 
wonders, and at the end of six months he turned 



MESS CUSTOMS 311 

out an excellent fellow, and to this day can never 
speak too highly of his time with the old Guides. 

Life in a big Mess has a very salutary effect on 
those who live in it. The prig ceases to be priggish : 
it isn't good enough. The cad, if. by chance he has 
slipped in, ceases to be caddish : it isn't good 
enough. The real " bad hat," or untamable 
" bounder " quietly disappears from His Majesty's 
Service. 

This Mess life has been of incalculable value not 
only to young Officers, but also to Civilians, especi- 
ally those who administer the Government in India. 
On the Frontiers of India these civil servants 
invariably hve at one or other of the Frontier Messes, 
and it is noticeable right through their after careers, 
their breadth of character, knowledge of how to deal 
with their fellow-men, besides tact, good temper, and 
savoir /aire, that have been imbibed when sucking- 
civilians in the Frontier Mess. 

One often hears querulous complaints about the 
expenses of a Mess, and " Father of Six " or 
"Anxious Mother" writes to the papers about it. 
Let me, who have spent nearly forty years in many 
Messes, reassure them. It is not the Mess that is 
expensive, it is running up to Town for week-ends, 
that costs money. If a subaltern sticks to his 
regiment, wherever it is quartered, and only goes 
away for his regular leave, and during that leave 
he probably has his own people and friends who are 
glad to see him, he will find that he can live with 
perfect comfort in His Majesty's Service on very 
small means. 

The very large influx of Officers into the Ser- 
vice during the Great War, and the difficulty, at 
short notice, of making these acquainted with the 
customs of the Service tempts me to make a few 
notes wliich may be found useful. 

In the first place an Of&cer should always be 



312 A SOLDIERS MEMORIES 

properly dressed. It is not good form, besides 
being against the King's Regulations, to wear fancy 
articles of apparel when in uniform.^ 

It is better not to smoke at all in uniform in 
pubHc, but if it is a matter of Hfe and death a 
cigarette may be permitted ; even in cases of extreme 
urgency or exhaustion a cigar. But never a pipe. 
To smoke a pipe in uniform in Pall MaU, or Hyde 
Park, is a more grievous offence than to elope with 
the Colonel's mother. Though I have knowTi that 
too being done — once. 

To walk arm in arm with a lady when in uniform, 
and more especially for the Officer to take the lady's 
arm, is not considered at all correct. Unless, of 
course, either the lady or the Officer suffer from an 
infirmity of the legs, or other serious disease, in 
which case it is allowable. In fog, on a dark 
night, or at a bad crossing, it is permissible for 
an Officer to help a lady in distress by giving her 
his arm. 

To answer a soldier's salute, or to salute a senior 
Officer who passes, are not things to be ashamed of 
or shunned. The soldier is not saluting 2nd Lieu- 
tenant John Smith, he is saluting the King's 
uniform, and it behoves the wearer of the King's 
uniform to look the soldier in the face, and return 
that salute smartly. 

In our Service we do not salute everyone senior 
to us in the streets. A subaltern does not, by the 
custom of the Service, salute another subaltern, but 
he does salute a Field Officer, or a General. The 
salute of sentries should carefully be noted, and 
returned. 

One often sees young Officers, either from bash- 
fulness or ignorance, pass the Lifeguardsmen at 
Whitehall, and the sentries on Buckingham Palace 
\rithout returning their salute. These sentries it 

^ Of course great latitude is naturally allowable in the field. 



MESS CUSTOMS 313 

will be noticed are most punctilious in saluting every 
Officer who passes. 

The matter of ladies is a somewhat dehcate one. 
But perhaps we may best put it that an Officer, 
wearing the Kings uniform, should not be seen 
about in pubhc with any lady who would not be 
welcome at his mother's tea-table. 

The last and best advice an old soldier can give a 
young one. is never at any time, or under any 
circumstances, disgrace the King's uniform. 



CHAPTER XX 

SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 

The Victoria Cross — The Royal Warrant — Lieut. R. C. Hart — 
Lieut. E. P. Leach — -Lieut. Walter Hamilton — Capt. A. G. 
Hammond — Capt. W. J. Vousden — Revd. J. W. Adams — 
Major White — Lieut. Wilson, r.n. — Q Battery, R.H.A. — 
Lieut. -Col. R. B. Adams — Lt. Lord Fincastle — Lieut. H. MacLean 
— Lieut. F. A. Maxwell — Lieut. G. Wylly — Sepoy Lalla 

DURING the best part of forty years' 
soldiering and in the course of many 
campaigns, one has naturally come across 
many cases of gallantry for which the Victoria Cross 
has been awarded, and perhaps an equal number 
where it has not. Curiously enough, the standard 
appears somewhat to vary in different campaigns, 
and even with the views of those who have the 
recommending. This apparently should not be so, 
for the Victoria Cross Warrant is open to all to read 
and is very clearly expressed. Lord Roberts, for 
instance, had great difficulty in getting the Victoria 
Cross for an Officer who had displayed great cool- 
ness and bravery, because it had become a rooted 
impression that it was absolutely necessary to 
rescue a wounded man before an Officer or soldier 
could get the Cross. Yet there is nothing in the 
Warrant about rescuing wounded men. 

In the same way, it is not generally knowTi that the 
Victoria Cross can be bestowed on the spot by an 
Admiral or General Officer under certain circum- 
stances. 

As perhaps few people know the exact wording of 

314 



SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 315 

the Victoria Cross Warrant, it may be interesting to 
give all the important parts of it. 

VICTORIA CROSS WARRANT 

Victoria R. 

Whereas ... for the purpose of attaining an 
end so desirable as that of rewarding individual 
instances of merit and valour, We have instituted 
and created, and by these presents, for Us, Our 
heirs and successors, institute a new naval and 
military decoration which We are desirous should 
be highly prized and eagerly sought after by the 
Officers and men of our naval and military services, 
and are graciously pleased to make, ordain and 
establish the following rules and ordinances for the 
government of the same, which shall from hence- 
forth be inviolably observed and kept : — 

Firstly. (Name and description of Victoria Cross.) 
Secondly. (To be worn on left breast with blue 

riband for Navy, and red for Army.) 
Thirdly. (Names of recipients to be Gazetted.) 
Fourthly. (Bars to V.C. for further acts of gallan- 
try.) 
Fifthly. It is ordained that the Cross shall only be 
awarded to those Officers and men who have 
performed acts of conspicuous bravery or 
devotion to the country in the presence of 
the enemy. ^ 
Sixthly. It is ordained, with a view to place all 
persons on a perfectly equal footing in 
relation to eligibility for the decoration, that 
neither rank, nor long service, nor wounds, 
nor any other circumstance or condition save 
the merit of conspicuous bravery, shall be 

^ As amended in 1881. 



3i6 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

held to establish a sufficient claim to the 
honor. 

Seventhly. It is ordained that the decoration may 
be conferred on the spot where the act . . . 
has been performed. . . . 

I. When the fleet or army, in which such act 
has been performed, is under the eye and 
command of an admiral or general officer 
commanding the forces. 

II. Where the naval or military force is under 
the eye and command of an admiral or com- 
modore commanding a squadron or detached 
naval force, or of a general commanding a 
corps, division or brigade on a distinct and 
detached service, when such admiral, com- 
modore or general officer shall have the power 
of conferring the decoration on the spot, sub- 
ject to confirmation by Us. 

Eighthly. It is ordained, where such act shall not 
have been performed in sight of a command- 
ing officer as aforesaid, then the claimant to 
the honor shall prove the act to the satisfac- 
tion of the captain or officer commanding 
the ship, or to the officer commanding the 
regiment to which the claimant belongs, and 
such captain or such commanding officer 
shall report the same through the usual 
channels . . . who shall call for such de- 
scription and attestation of the act as he may 
think requisite, and on approval shall recom- 
mend the grant of the decoration. 

Ninthly. (Recipient to be publicly decorated.) 

Tenthly. (Ditto.) 

Eleventhly. (Name to be registered.) 

Twelfthly. (Special cases unprovided for above, 
how to be dealt with.) 



SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 317 

Thirteenthly. It is ordained that, in the event of a 
gallant and daring act having been performed 
by a squadron, ship's company, a detached 
body of seamen and marines, not under fifty 
in number, or by a brigade, regiment, troop, 
or company in which the admiral, general or 
other officer commanding such forces, may 
deem that all are equally brave and dis- 
tinguished, and that no special selection can 
be rnade by them, then in such case the 
admiral, general or other officer commanding 
may direct that for any such body of seamen 
and marines, or for every troop or company 
of soldiers, one officer shall be selected by the 
officers engaged for the decoration : and in 
like manner one petty officer or non-com- 
missioned officer shall be selected by the 
petty officers and non-commissioned officers 
engaged : and two seamen or private soldiers 
or marines shall be selected by the seamen, or 
private soldiers or marines engaged respec- 
tively for the decoration. . . . 

Fourteenthly. (A Pension of ;f 10 a year to warrant, 
petty, non-commissioned officers, and seamen, 
privates and marines. £5 extra for each bar.) 

Fifteenthly. (Providing for forfeiture of the decora- 
tion.) 

By Her Majesty's Command, 

Panmure. 

Buckingham Palace, 

January 2()th, 1856. 

In relating the story of how a few Victoria Crosses 
have been won, it must be remembered that these 
are not necessarily selected or typical cases, but 
merely those which are within the writer's personal 
cognisance. 

During the Afghan War, 1878-80, two Columns 



3i8 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

were sent into the Bazaar Valley to punish raiders 
on our lines of communication. Having completed 
their work, they were returning to their former 
stations by different routes, one leading to the 
Khyber Pass and the other to the Jellalabad Valley. 
Serving with the former Column, which was under 
command of Sir Frederick Maude, father of Sir 
Stanley Maude now commanding in Mesopotamia, 
was a young sapper subaltern named Reginald 
Hart.i 

Reginald Hart had already won three Humane 
Society's Medals, whilst still a Cadet at Woolwich, 
for a signal act of bravery. He was returning from 
leave in France, and was going on board the boat at 
Boulogne in very rough weather. The ship was 
grinding against the jetty, and the motion made the 
gangway very unsafe and unstable. A lady going 
on board slipped, missed her footing, and fell through 
into the sea between the ship and the jetty. The 
Gentleman-Cadet with great promptitude risked 
being crushed to death, and being drowned, and 
dropped through after her, and saved her life. 

For this brave act Reginald Hart was awarded 
the English Humane Society's Medal, the French 
Humane Society's Medal, and a special medal 
presented by the town of Boulogne. In later life, as 
a Colonel, this gallant sapper earned a clasp to his 
Humane Society's Medal for diving, in full dress 
when returning from a parade, after a driver of the 
Royal Artillery who had been thrown into the 
water whilst crossing a bridge. 

On the occasion when he won the Victoria Cross, 
he happened to be with the rearguard of Sir 
Frederick Maude's column when a Sowar rode up 
to it at speed, and reported that he and another 
Sowar had been sent with a despatch from the 
Jellalabad Valley column. That as they rode along 

^ Now General Sir Reginald Hart, v.c, k.c.b., k.c.v.o. 



SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 319 

a heavy fire was opened upon them, that his com- 
panion had been severely wounded and his horse 
shot, and that he himself had ridden on to deliver 
the despatches, and to send succour back to his 
wounded comrade. 

Reginald Hart overheard this converse, and there 
and then started to run back to rescue the wounded 
Sowar. Now in civihsed warfare a wounded man 
is, or was till the Germans put back the clock three 
hundred years, a non-combatant and safe till he can 
be attended to. But the Afridis had then no such 
code, and would murder a wounded man out of 
hand. The young Sapper-Officer therefore ran back, 
it might be for miles as far as he knew, into a Pass 
which in all probability was swarming with expert 
riflemen, alone and armed only with a revolver, to 
rescue a wounded comrade from a horrible death. 
And we had had some ocular demonstration of what 
that death might be. 

Captain Stedman, with a detachment from the 
rearguard of the 24th Punjab Infantry, started to 
double after him, and eventually came up with 
Reginald Hart, to find that he had driven off the 
obscene vultures who were hovering round their 
prey, and was standing guard over the prostrate 
Sowar. 

For this act of prompt gallantry the Victoria 
Cross was awarded to Lieutenant Reginald Clare 
Hart, Royal Engineers. 

Another sapper subaltern, E. P. Leach, ^ earned the 
Victoria Cross shortly afterwards, also in Afghanis- 
tan. Leach was then employed in surveying the 
hitherto unmapped areas of the occupied country, 
; and was out with an escort of the 45th Sikhs under 
I Captain Barclay, and of The Guides Cavalry under 
, Lieutenant Walter Hamilton, who himself a few 

I ^ General Sir Edward Pemberton Leach, v.c, k.c.b., k.c.v.o., died 
I 1913- 



320 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

weeks later got the Victoria Cross. This survey 
work is highly dangerous in Afghanistan, and the 
mountainous country between that country and 
India. These people have a fanatical hatred for 
anything to do with a map, for as the Pathan saying 
is : 

" First comes one Englishman to shoot birds or 
beasts, then come two Englishmen to make a map, 
and then comes an army to take the country. It 
is better therefore to kill the first Englishman." 

An escort, though of great assistance — indeed, 
without it survey in these regions would be im- 
possible — finds it very difficult to adequately guard 
the surveyors. For they and their assistants are 
frequently perched about on all the highest moun- 
tains, sometimes over a considerable area. 

The Afghans had carefully watched Lieutenant 
Leach and his party, and at a favourable moment 
attacked it with superior forces. Captain Barclay 
commanding the escort was mortally wounded, and 
the whole of the little force was in danger of being 
annihilated when Leach promptly took command, 
rescued Barclay from a horrible death, and boldly 
taking the offensive completely defeated the enemy. 
In the fight Leach himself was severely wounded. 

Sir Sam Browne, himself a V.C. man, recom- 
mended Lieutenant Leach for the Victoria Cross, 
and this in due course was bestowed upon him. 

The deed for which Walter Hamilton of The 
Guides earned the Victoria Cross was of a different 
type of bravery. It was resource and boldness at a 
critical moment whereby the tide in a battle was 
turned to victory. At the moment things were not 
going particularly well in that particular battle, the 
battle of Fattehabad in Afghanistan. 

A squadron of The Guides Cavalry were therefore 
ordered to charge. There were only two British 
Officers with the squadron. One was Major Wigram 



SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 321 

Battye, and the other was Walter Hamilton, a young 
subaltern who had just joined. Almost immediately 
after the charge started Major Wigram Battye was 
first wounded and then killed, so that the command 
devolved on the young subaltern just joined. 

Nothing dismayed, the boy swept on with his 
squadron, but just before he reached the enemy 
he was faced by a horrible shock. A deep ravine 
with a nine-feet sheer drop into it, a flat, sandy bed, 
and then a sheer cliff nine feet high on the far bank. 
Along that bank the enemy, posted and firing 
heavily. That was not a very encouraging obstacle 
to come across in a Cavalry charge. But the young 
Irishman's blood was up : he neither checked nor 
wavered, but made a clean jump down into the bed 
of the ravine and his squadron came tumbling after 
him. For the Indian trooper will go anywhere his 
Sahib leads. 

Arrived in the ravine bed, all by instinct galloped 
towards the far bank which brought them more or 
less into dead ground ; then scattering right and 
left sought egress. Hamilton was one of the first 
to find a way, a rivulet cut or a goat track, and 
struggled out on to the plain beyond. His men 
hither and thither found similar places, and on their 
active little stallions scrambled up. Then each and 
all, led by Hamilton and without reforming, fell on 
the enemy and turned the tide of battle. 

Walter Hamilton was a very calm and unperturb- 
able boy in ordinary life, and that evening, chatting 
with him, he seemed chiefly concerned with the fact 
that " some infernal fellow had cut his boot open." 
Which indeed he had, from the instep to the toe, and 
a brand-new pair too. 

Sir Charles Gough, who was commanding in this 
battle, and himself a most gallant Cavalry leader 
and Victoria Cross man, recommended Walter 
Hamilton for the soldier's highest reward for his 



322 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

gallantry on this occasion. But he did not live to 
learn that he had received it, for he was killed in the 
defence of the Kabul Residency before the Gazette 
appeared. 

The case of Captain Hammond of The Guides is 
the one alluded to elsewhere in which Lord Roberts 
had great difficulty in obtaining the Victoria Cross 
for him because of a curious official obsession. Lord 
Roberts's force was besieged in Sherpur, but that 
gallant leader was not one to submit to a passive 
defence. He therefore made occasional strong 
counter-attacks. One of these was made against the 
Asmai heights to the right rear of Kabul city. 
After inflicting considerable loss on the enemy, the 
force was being withdrawn for the night into Sherpur. 
A retirement of this sort is a very delicate operation 
against hordes of Afghans. Every stone and rock 
produces a man, and these all hurl themselves, with 
great bravery and determination, on the retiring 
troops. 

Captain Hammond, with the Dogra Company of 
The Guides, had the post of honour and danger, 
as the extreme rearguard of the British force. 
During the retirement he was very heavily attacked, 
and it was of utmost importance to hold on to a 
small hillock, till positions behind were in their turn 
occupied. Captain Hammond was a very powerful 
man, and stood no nonsense from Afghans, or any- 
one else. He therefore seized a rifle and bayonet and, 
practically alone, held the hill-top. Lord Roberts, 
who himself saw the incident, at once recommended 
Captain Hammond for the Victoria Cross for con- 
spicuous bravery and devotion. But some worthy 
person with a pen refused to forward the recom- 
mendation, because it did not appear that Captain 
Hammond had rescued a wounded man. As a 
matter of fact. Captain Hammond had rescued 
several wounded men, and especially one. The 



SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 323 

gentleman with the pen being now satisfied, Captain 
Hammond received a most gallantly won Victoria 

Cross. .,,;.-! ,. 

Captain Vousden, of the 5th Punjab Cavalry, and 
afterwards Commandant of The Guides, won the 
Victoria Cross at Kabul about the same time as 
Captain Hammond. His was a deed of prowess of the 
old knightly order, when mighty men of valour 
entered into the battle, and with their own right 
hands showed who was the better man. Captain 
Vousden was not only a very powerful man, but an 
expert swordsman on horseback. He and his 
squadron were in camp, off-saddled, when it was 
suddenly reported by one of the outlying picquets 
that a body of the enemy some hundreds strong 
were sweeping round a neighbouring spur with a 
view to attacking the camp. 

Orders were at once issued for Captain Vousden to 
turn out with his squadron of the 5th Punjab 
Cavalry and check this onslaught. When a regiment 
is off-saddled and in camp, it takes some appreciable 
time to collect the men, saddle up, and get moving. 
As time was a matter of great importance, and the 
situation critical, Captain Vousden took the first 
eight men who were ready, and with them stoutly 
charged the Afghans. He himself killed five with 
his own hand, and five out of his own eight men 
were killed, but Vousden escaped without a scratch. 
The rest of the squadron now arriving, he com- 
pletely defeated and dispersed the Afghans. 

This was a very fine instance of personal daring, 
great danger encountered at once against great odds, 
in a devoted and successful endeavour to gain time, 
and save an imminent disaster. 

There has always been much controversy as to 
whether it is better to use the edge, or the point, of a 
sword, that is whether to cut or thrust. All the old 
school of Cavalry soldiers, men who had been in 



324 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

many a personal encounter, maintained that the 
natural instinct of a man is to cut, not to thrust ; 
and that therefore, however much he was taught 
to thrust in peace time, the moment he got into a 
melee he would forget all that instruction, and lay 
about him as nature ordained. This was Captain 
Vousden's experience : in each case he first parried, 
and then cut. He said that if he had thrust, his 
sword would probably have remained firmly em- 
bedded in his first victim, and left him unarmed. 
Or at best he would have got tangled up each time, 
getting his point clear, and meanwhile lay open to 
attack. 

For this great deed of daring, on true old heroic 
lines, Captain Vousden was recommended for the 
Victoria Cross by Lord Roberts, and my recollection 
is, that the same knight of the pen who objected to 
Captain Hammond's V.C., again intervened in this 
case. But happily he was again defeated and 
Captain Vousden received his well-earned reward. 

Padre Adams was of the sporting-parson class. As 
an Army Chaplain his view was that to get to know 
Officers and soldiers, you must join in their pursuits, 
and meet them daily on common ground. The 
soldier, and his Officer, go to Church Parade because 
the King's Regulations ordain that they should do 
so. They have also to be particularly smart on that 
occasion, and this means a considerable amount of 
polishing of buttons, and belts, to the private soldier. 
Arrived at the church, the soldier goes through a 
perfunctory service and hears, or does not hear, a 
short sermon from a gentleman in white, with out- 
wardly respectful attention, and departs home none 
the better and none the worse. The Army Chaplain's 
position is a difficult one, unless he grasps at once 
that he and Thomas Atkins, and his Officer, are of the 
same clay, only one wears a white robe, and the other 
a scarlet tunic, in church. 



SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 325 

Padre Adams grasped that essential truth. He 
was a week-day friend with the men, and he still 
more laid himself out to be a week-day friend with 
the Officers. To this end he played cricket, and 
polo, and hunted with the Peshawar Vale Hounds. 
He was a poor polo player, but he played his best, 
and secured what he was driving at, that is meeting 
young Officers somewhere else than in church, where 
they could not chaff him back. In those days, for 
polo was in its young days, what appealed a great 
deal to the Officers' Mess was the hard man, who 
could ride far and hard. 

Nobody for choice holds one service in one place 
in the morning, and another forty miles off the same 
evening, but Padre Adams did frequently, and 
probably not from excessive love of riding great 
distances in the hot sun, but because these feats 
brought him nearer the most difficult portion of his 
congregations. 

He used thus frequently to hold one Parade 
Service at Peshawar, and that same afternoon an 
Evening Service at Kohat, forty miles distant. But 
not only was, and is, Kohat forty miles distant from 
Peshawar by road, but that road passes through the 
Kohat Pass, a strip of tribal territory in which any 
bandit gang might lie secure for purposes of highway 
robbery and murder. Thus each of these rides shone 
in the subaltern's eyes as a " dam' sporting thing," 
and he thought all the better of a parson who could 
do them. 

Thus Padre Adams was dubbed a " sporting 
parson," and that helped his work immensely. There 
was no one at the time who had more influence for 
good, amongst Officers and men, than Padre Adams. 

When the Afghan War broke out Padre Adams 
went to the front as a Chaplain, and accompanied 
Lord Roberts to Kabul. There was much fierce 
fighting in and around Kabul during the winter of 



326 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

1879-80. A small British Force was in the centre of 
an enemy's country, surrounded by great hordes of 
armed but undisciplined warriors, dealing a blow here 
and another there, much as does one stout-hearted 
man, with his back to a wall, against a dozen 
assailants. In one of these encounters the 9th 
Lancers were ordered to charge, but their effort 
was broken by a swollen stream which suddenly lay 
in their way. Great bodies of Afghans, quick to 
seize a chance, then attacked them, hoping to 
capture some Horse Artillery guns ^which accom- 
panied the Cavalry. 

During this hot fight Padre Adams was well up, 
riding his pony, when he noticed a man of the 
9th Lancers wounded, and on foot, and staggering 
back and in great jeopardy of being killed by the 
Afghans. Jumping off his pony, the Padre was 
attending to and helping this man, when his own pony 
in the hurly-burly took fright, and ran away. Help- 
ing the soldier into safety Padre Adams returned on 
foot to see if he could be of further assistance. 

Reaching the deep-flooded rivulet, which had 
interrupted the Cavalry charge, he saw two lancers 
pinned down by their horses and in imminent risk 
of drowning, whilst the Afghans were close up on 
the opposite bank. Without a moment's hesitation 
the Padre jumped into the icy water, regardless of 
the heavy fire, and rescued both soldiers. 

Lord Roberts, himself the bravest of the brave, 
recommended Padre Adams for the Victoria Cross, 
which in due course Queen Victoria bestowed on 
him. He was the first parson to receive that greatly 
prized decoration. 

I last met Padre Adams preaching in Sandring- 
ham Church, before King Edward and Queen 
Alexandra, when Prince and Princess of Wales, with 
his Victoria Cross and two Afghan medals on his 
surplice, and found the same human spirit in his 



SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 327 

sermon, amidst such greatly differing surround- 
ings. 

One of the bravest men, and an Irish gentleman 
to boot, was Sir George White. 1 After twenty-six 
years' service he was still a Major in the Gordon 
Highlanders, and had never seen a shot fired. But 
his chance came in the Afghan War. His was a 
case again where the scribes objected that he had 
not saved a wounded man. But here again Lord 
Roberts insisted that there was no word in the 
Warrant about rescuing wounded men, and that 
Major White had on several occasions behaved with 
conspicuous bravery and devotion. The two in- 
cidents for which he was officially granted the 
Victoria Cross, took place at the battles of Charasiah 
and Kandahar. Charasiah was one of Lord Roberts's 
most critical battles, and had to be won at all costs. 
At the most crucial moment in that battle it was 
most essential that a hill on our left should be taken. 
Major White and a wing of the Gordon Highlanders 
were sent to achieve this object. The hill was steep, 
the defence stout and strong, but at length Major 
White, leading with two men only, and these ex- 
hausted, won his way up. Going on alone he shot 
dead the leader of the enemy, and as the men 
struggled up permanently captured the position. 

The second act of valour, which was bracketed 
with the first in the bestowal of the Cross, took 
place at the battle of Kandahar, after Lord Roberts's 
famous march from Kabul to Kandahar. Here 
again, leading the advanced wing of the Gordon 
Highlanders, was Major White, and opposite them 
was a battery of the enemy's guns. These Major 
White charged, himself racing on in front, and per- 
sonally capturing the first one. 

In connection with Major White a nice story was 

1 Field-Marshal Sir George White, v.c, G.c.B., G.c.s.i., g.c.m.g., 

G.C.I.E., G.C.V.O., O.M. 



328 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

told by Sir Herbert MacPherson, who commanded 
the brigade in which the Gordon Highlanders served. 
Sir Herbert was at Osborne on a visit to Queen 
Victoria, and Her Majesty asked him point-blank, 
why she always heard of Major White and the 
Gordon Highlanders, and seldom of Colonel Parker 
and the Gordon Highlanders ; Colonel Parker being 
the Colonel of the regiment. Sir Herbert at once 
replied : 

" Partly, Madam, because Major White is an 
excellent Officer and has done exceedingly well ; and 
partly because Colonel Parker never thinks of him- 
self, but always gives credit to those serving under 
him." 

In the Soudan a Naval Officer, Lieutenant A. K. 
Wilson,^ was one of those who received the Victoria 
Cross. It was at the battle of El Teb, one of our 
earlier battles in the Soudan, when we always fought 
in hollow squares. This tactical formation was used 
partly because it was the simplest way of guarding 
and protecting the baggage and convoy, and partly 
because the dense bush made it difficult to know 
from which direction to expect an attack. So the 
troops stood foursquare, and at night cut down 
thorn bushes and formed a zareba round. 

The weak point of any formation with salients is 
the apex of those salients. In a square the corners. 
At these, therefore, were usually placed the machine 
guns, or Artillery if we had any. At El Teb the blue- 
jackets with a machine gun were given the defence 
of one corner of the square, for naturally all battles 
of this description were fought on the defensive, 
victory being achieved by rifle and gun-fire. Wilson 
was, I think, in command of this corner ; anyway, 
at a critical moment the gun jammed, as they fre- 
quently did in those days, what with sand and one 
thing or another, and a determined rush was made 

1 Admiral Sir A. K. Wilson, v.c, k.c.b., k.c.v.o., o.m. 



SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 329 

by the dauntless Arabs at what had now become a 
very weak spot. Wilson was not only a stout- 
hearted sailor, but also physically a strong man, 
and he took on the Arabs in hand-to-hand fight. 

Many of the Arabs were armed with heavy swords, 
copied from those carried by our Crusaders in the 
old wars between the Cross and the Crescent. Some 
of these were the original blades used by our fore- 
fathers, and I w^as fortunate enough to secure one 
of these, with the English lion and the cross engraved 
upon it, now on the walls of The Guides' Mess. 
Against these heavy swords a light Naval Officer's 
sword was not of much avail, and Lieutenant 
Wilson's sword was broken off short at the hilt. 

Nothing dismayed he used the handle as a knuckle- 
duster, and went in at the Arabs with his fists. The 
bluejackets followed suit and in good old British 
fashion knocked out the astonished Arabs. Mean- 
while the gun had been got into working order again, 
the situation cleared, and a hard-earned victory was 
added to British laurels. 

For his great personal bravery, and splendid 
example, Wilson received the Victoria Cross. 

It is not often that three Officers in the same 
regiment get the Victoria Cross on one day. Occa- 
sionally as in the case of Major Phipps-Hornby and 
Q Battery, Royal Horse Artillery, at Sauna's Post 
in the South African War, Victoria Crosses are given 
collectively to the Battery, and the Battery, or 
other body of troops, elect the actual recipients — 
One Officer, one Warrant or Non-Commissioned 
Officer, and two men. 

The three Officers on the present occasion were 
Lieut. -Colonel R. B. Adams, who commanded the 
Corps of Guides ; Lieutenant H. MacLean, Adjutant 
of the Guides' Cavalry ; and Lieutenant Lord Fm- 
castle, i6th Lancers, attached to the Guides' Cavalry 
for the Campaign. The scene was the Swat Valley, 



330 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

down which flows the Swat River. At its lower end 
the valley is well cultivated, and some three miles 
wide in parts. Proceeding upstream the valley 
narrows, and spurs from the mountains on each side 
run down and touch the river at intervals. Between 
these spurs are bays of cultivated land. 

The British force was proceeding up the valley 
and found one of these spurs strongly held by the 
enemy, and it was necessary to drive them off 
this, by a frontal attack. Sir Bindon Blood, who 
was in command, directed the Infantry to attack, 
and held his Cavalry ready to go in pursuit, directly 
the enemy were driven oft the spur. 

When the right moment arrived, and the enemy 
gave signs of breaking, the Cavalry received their 
orders, and proceeded to obey them . Now the only way 
of getting round the spur, where it abutted on the 
river, was by a narrow single-file track which for 
about a mile skirted the spur at river level. Beyond 
was an open cultivated bay, about two miles across, 
and much intersected with irrigation water-courses. 
On the far side of the cultivated bay was another 
spur running into the river. It was the intention 
of Sir Bindon Blood that the Cavalry should catch 
the flying enemy as they crossed the cultivated bay. 
But as all Cavalry soldiers know, a body of Cavalry 
moving fast in single file along a tortuous and rock- 
strewn track is apt to get very spun out. The 
leading files get through quick enough, too quick 
unless checked ; and the further to the rear the Hne 
reaches the more strenuous are the efforts of horse 
and man to keep up. 

The leading files with an Officer soon passed 
through the defile, and arriving in the open saw the 
enemy fleeing before them. They waited a bit to 
collect more men, but fearing the fleeting chance 
might be missed soon set forth in pursuit. 

With this small leading body of Cavalry was a young 



SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 331 

Officer of Infantry, who was acting as war corres- 
pondent to one of the daily papers. He was riding 
a pony which was evidently not accustomed to be with 
charging Cavalry, and mad with excitement set off 
at a tearing gallop, easily outdistancing the troopers 
on their more heavily weighted mounts. Across 
the valley he tore quite out of control, straight for 
the next spur, which now could be seen to be strongly 
held, right down to the edge of the cultivation. 
Nothing could stop the mad pony, and alone he 
charged at the enemy. When he was quite close, 
150 yards or so, a scattered volley from the enemy 
killed the pony and severely wounded the war 
correspondent. Meanwhile Colonel Adams, having 
reformed the Cavalry as it emerged in driblets from 
the defile, pushed on as hard as he could in support 
of the advanced parties. When he got close he saw 
that up a rock-strewn mountain was no place for 
Cavalry to charge, so he diverted them off to the 
left to occupy a ziarat, or walled-in graveyard, and 
thence ordered them to open a heavy fire on the 
enemy on the spur. Meanwhile the war correspon- 
dent lay out in the open, liable to be cut to pieces 
at any moment. 

This could not be, so first Hector MacLean rode 
out and dismounting tried to lift the half-conscious 
correspondent on to his horse. The enemy were 
only 150 yards distant and firing heavily. Thus 
whilst Hector MacLean was labouring to lift him 
the correspondent was shot dead and almost im- 
mediately after the gallant young Adjutant of the 
Guides' Cavalry was himself mortally wounded. 

Almost simultaneously Colonel Adams on horse- 
back and Lord Fincastle on foot dashed out, for the 
enemy shouting exultingly were swarming down 
on their prey. Colonel Adams mounted, and with 
pistol in hand stood out boldly to stem the rush, 
whilst Lord Fincastle Hfted the dying officer and 



332 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

carried him to safety. Marvellous to relate, though 
subject to a very hot fire at close range, lOO to 150 
yards. Colonel Adams escaped with a graze, though 
his horse was shot. Lord Fincastle miraculously 
escaped unscathed. 

Colonel Adams and Lord Fincastle received the 
Victoria Cross for their bravery and devotion on 
this occasion, and Hector MacLean was awarded 
a posthumous Victoria Cross. Two or three of the 
N.C.O.'s and men of the Guides' Cavalry were also 
decorated with the Order of Merit for their gallant 
assistance under very desperate circumstances. 

Another very gallant Officer, Francis Aylmer 
Maxwell, 1 who fought his first Campaign in The 
Guides, has since earned the Distinguished Service 
Order, the Victoria Cross, and a second bar to the 
D.S.O. in three later Campaigns. 

For the Distinguished Service Order, Lieutenant 
Maxwell was recommended in the Relief of Chitral 
during a retirement when he carried in Colonel 
F. D. Battye, the mortally wounded Commandant 
of The Guides, under a very hot fire. The reward 
was not granted then, but with this record behind 
him he received it for further services in Tirah. 
The second bar he received for gallantry in action 
whilst leading his regiment in France. 

It was in South Africa, whilst yet a subaltern, 
that this brave soldier won the Victoria Cross. He 
was serving with Roberts's Light Horse, a Colonial 
Corps recently raised for service in the Boer War, 
and formed part of General Broadwood's force, which 
was returning from the eastern portion of the 
Orange Free State towards Bloemfontein. On 
leaving Sauna's Post, the force fell into an ambus- 
cade, very cleverly and boldly contrived by De Wet. 

Part of General Broadwood's force consisted of 
Q Battery, Royal Horse Artillery, under Major 

^ Lieut. -Col. F. A. Maxwell, v.c, c.s.i., d.s.o., m.c. 



SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 333 

E. J. Phipps-Hornby. This battery at once un- 
limbered and came into action against the enemy, 
who were concealed in the bed of a dry spruit. But 
the range was very short, only four hundred yards 
or so, and the enemy's rifle-fire killed men and 
horses, and for the moment put the battery out of 
action. Major Phipps-Hornby seeing that thus 
exposed his battery could not be of use, whilst it 
was in great danger of being captured, determined 
to withdraw it a short distance. This was a very 
desperate undertaking, but was successfully accom- 
plished, in so far as four guns were concerned. 

In this hazardous work Lieutenant Maxwell at 
once joined as a volunteer, and exhibited "the 
greatest possible gallantry " in the work of rescue. 
Five times he went out into the open under what 
was termed " an infernal fire " and helped to bring 
in two guns and three limbers, one of which he, with 
Captain Humphreys, r.h.a., and some gunners, 
dragged in by hand, all the horses being shot. 

This was an occasion when the collective award 
of the Victoria Cross was made to Q Battery, Royal 
Horse Artillery, and it was also awarded to Lieu- 
tenant Maxwell. 

Young Wylly, of The Guides, earned the Victoria 
Cross in South Africa, when, I think, a Corporal in 
the Corps of Tasmanian Imperial Bushmen. His 
father was an old Army Colonel, who had settled in 
Tasmania, and when the Boer War broke out this 
son, like many other patriotic men, enlisted and went 
to the front. When out foraging one day near Warm 
Bad in the Transvaal, Wylly and his party fell mto 
a veritable hornets' nest of Boers. As they were 
riding through a narrow gorge a sudden burst of fire 
knocked out six of the eight who composed the 
advanced party. Wylly himself was one of the 
wounded. But he rose to the occasion, and with 
great courage and determination faced the situa- 



334 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

tion. He had become the only man left able to use 
a rifle, and alone behind a rock kept the Boers at 
bay by quick and accurate shooting, and eventually 
rescued all the incapable wounded, and brought 
them off. 

For this act of conspicuous gallantry Wylly re- 
ceived the Victoria Cross, was promoted from the 
ranks, and transferred to the Corps of Guides. 
This young Officer had had a fairly strenuous time 
in that narrow defile, but perhaps a later experience 
was even more trying to the nerves. One day after 
he had joined The Guides in India, a letter came 
from the Military Secretary to Lord Kitchener, then 
Commander-in-Chief in India, asking that Lieutenant 
Wylly might be sent down to Calcutta to be vetted 
as to his suitability to fill a vacancy as A.D.C. to 
Lord Kitchener. The letter further enjoined that 
he was not to be told what he was wanted for, and 
dark hints were to be given that it was something 
to do with the Intelligence Department. 

I, however, took the liberty of ignoring the last 
part of the letter, for it is always best to be straight 
and clear with British Officers, and told young 
Wylly exactly what he was wanted for, and to be of 
good cheer, and perfectly natural. Arrived at Cal- 
cutta he was subject to the awful ordeal of a trial 
lunch, having heard just before that three previous 
candidates, immediately after their lunches, were 
presented with first-class tickets back to their regi- 
ments ! His lunch, however, was a success, and he 
served many years with Lord Kitchener, and was 
much devoted to him. 

A heavy frontal attack was taking place across 
the dead flat open ground on the Turkish trenches, 
which were strongly held. On our left the attack 
partially succeeded, but all along the rest of the line 
it was held up at distances varying from loo yards 
to 500 yards from the Turks. At this moment Sepoy 



SOME FEW VICTORIA CROSSES 335 

(now Lance-Naik) Lalla came across a Major in his 
regiment 150 yards from the enemy, lying com- 
pletely exposed in the open, and trying to bandage 
a grievous wound. Lalla dragged him a few yards 
to a very slight depression only a few inches deep, 
and there bound up the Major's wounds. Whilst 
doing so he heard other cries for help, and sallying 
forth dragged four more of his comrades into the 
meagre shelter, and bound up their wounds. 

Meanwhile it had come on to rain hard, and a 
pitiless icy wind sprang up. Then Lalla heard 
another voice calling for help about fifty yards to 
the front, and only hundred yards from the Turkish 
trenches. He recognised the voice and said to the 
Major : 

" That is my Adjutant, Sahib, calling. I must 
go out to help him." 

" No, Lalla, it is quite useless," said the Major. 
** You will certainly be shot dead and therefore be 
of no use." 

Then seeing that Lalla was still preparing to go, 
he added : 

" I order you not to go. Lie down." 

Lalla lay still for a bit, and then the voice from 
the front again called for help. 

Up jumped Lalla, and caUing out " I'll be back 
in a minute," dashed out to his Adjutant. 

The Adjutant, just before he was taken into the 
operating-room in hospital, where he died, dictated 
his evidence to a brother Officer. He said : 

" I was shot down in the open about hundred 
yards from the enemy, and lay in great agony. An 
Officer of the Black Watch, who was lying wounded 
a few yards off, tried to crawl to my assistance, but 
he was instantly shot dead. Every time I made the 
slightest movement bullets whistled past me, or 
through me. Then came a Sepoy to my assistance, 
and he was instantly shot dead. Then it came on 



336 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

to rain, and a bitter wind sprang up. Then as I lay 
in great pain suddenly appeared Lalla and lay down 
beside me with cheering words. First he bound up 
my wounds, and then taking off his own coat spread 
it over me. Then he lay down lengthways so as to 
protect me from the enemy's bullets. For five hours 
he lay like this in the wet and cold, and all the time 
kept talking cheerfully and encouragingly to keep 
my spirits up. At length when it grew dusk he crept 
off and said he was going back to get assistance and 
would soon return. I slept or dozed for some time 
and then heard Lalla return. 

'"It is good. Sahib, very good. I have brought 
some stretcher-bearers up not far from this. I will 
lie flat whilst you get on my back, and then I will 
crawl away with you on hands and knees.' " 

With great difficulty the Adjutant obeyed these 
instructions and was borne painfully many hundred 
yards by Lalla to the stretcher-bearers. 

Then Lalla said : 

" I must return and fetch the Major, Sahib, and 
those four Sepoys." 

And this he did, and brought them all safely 
out. And wonderful to relate he was not touched 
by bullet, or shell, all day or night. Next morning 
he was hale and hearty and cheerful as ever, and 
grinned with great joyousness when he heard he 
was a brave man. 

The Victoria Cross has only recently been accorded 
to Indian soldiers, and perhaps there is no worthier 
wearer of that badge of honour and bravery than 
Lance-Naik Lalla of the Dogras. 



CHAPTER XXI 

A CRUISE DOWN THE INDUS 

A Mighty River— Nine Miles Wide— Its devastations— Dera- 
Ghazi-Klian Swept Away — The Party — The Fleet — Weighing 
Anclior— " What's a Log ? "—The Telegraph Operator— Lunch 
on Board — The Lady sees 3000 Geese — We Shoot One — The 
Fleet Sets Sail — Anchor for the Night — A Few Partridges — 
Soulful Music — Set Sail Again — Stalking Duck — More Par- 
tridges — Struggle with an Alligator— A Night Alarm— " Man 
Overboard " — The Telegraph Operator's Use — His Night Ex- 
cursion — Shooting, Lazing and Sailing — A Goanese General — 
A Scene of Desolation— The Ruined Town — The Church 
Stands Amazed — Good-bye — Off to Fight the Germans 

THE Indus is a mighty river, though you 
might not think so in the cold weather. 
Then opposite Dera-Ismail-Khan it flows 
usually in two channels, one about as broad as the 
Thames at Westminster, and the other somewhat 
narrower, nor is it here very deep. But in summer 
it is a very different river ; then the melting of the 
snows in the Himalayan Mountains, and the heavy 
rain in the nearer ranges, swell the Indus to great 
dimensions. It is thirteen miles from Dera-Ismail- 
Khan Cantonment to the railway station on the 
opposite bank. In the cold weather all but a few 
hundred yards of this distance can be driven in a 
tonga, or ridden on a horse. But in the summer 
there are nine miles of water which have to be 
crossed by boat or steamer, and only four miles 
drivable. That gives the size of the river at its 
greatest and least. 

Nor is it stable in its channel. The original town 
of Dera-Ismail-Khan lies at the bottom of the 

Y 337 



338 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

river nine miles west of its present site. And now 
the new site is threatened after sixty years of steady 
erosion. The river now flows along the foot of the 
regimental parade grounds and sometimes floods 
them. It may continue its western erosion, or it 
may suddenly discover that the other bank is more 
interesting, and next year be six miles away. 

It thus played a grim joke on Dera-Ghazi-Khan, 
the next Frontier Cantonment downstream. It at- 
tacked it fiercely and strongly ; the Indian Govern- 
ment spent hundreds of thousands of pounds in 
fighting it. Yet it prevailed. It swept away the 
town of Dera-Ghazi-Khan, it swept away the Can- 
tonments behind it, and then, having played this 
pleasantry, wandered off into a channel five miles 
away. 

Dera-Ghazi-Khan came into my Brigade area — 
a somewhat elastic term : for some Brigade areas in 
India include three sets of barracks, whilst others 
include territories as large as half of England. This 
particular Brigade area is half as large as England, 
and twice as wicked. 

It was with a view to visiting this portion of the 
spacious domains assigned to my Brigade, as well 
as to see how the fight with the Indus was proceed- 
ing, that we took a voyage down that historic river. 

The party consisted of the Major, the Ingenuous 
Subaltern, myself, and last, but not least, the Lady 
Sahiba. These four decided on a voyage of adven- 
ture, two hundred miles down the Indus, from Dera- 
Ismail-Khan to Dera-Ghazi-Khan. They chose the 
best time of year, that is February, when the days 
are bright and not too hot ; and the nights not too 
cold, but just cold enough to sleep in what is known 
in soldier language as a flea-bag. That is a blanket 
sewn up into a long thin bag, into which the sleeper 
can insert himself, boots and all if necessary, and 
sleep the sleep of the tired hunter, without having 



A CRUISE DOWN THE INDUS 339 

the wind whistling through the cracks, or putting 
his feet through the end. 

The fleet chartered to carry this party and their 
retinue consisted of three ships. First came the 
Saucy Sue, a square flat-bottomed privateer, painted 
white with green facings, and having a single mast 
with a lateen sail. In her sailed the four principal 
persons as above enumerated ; two dogs, one a 
black chow named " Phoongye," and the other a 
visitor, a rough-haired fox terrier, " Patch " by 
name, who hated his canine host with a smouldering 
passion. Then there was Luckoo, more generally 
known as the Faithful Servitor, having been twenty 
odd years in his master's service, and Bugtoo, his 
son and diminutive understudy. I say son, but 
Luckoo himself took up a semi-detached attitude 
on the subject. 

The Saucy Sue had a crew of six, including the 
Captain ; guns, rifles, fishing rods, and other sporting 
ventures were also on this ship. 

In the second ship, named The Slippery Sal, 
sailed the rest of the servants, and in the East their 
number is legion ; the provinder, the kitchen, and 
the telegraph operator. This ship was of the same 
pattern as the Saucy Sue, but more humbly adorned. 

In the third vessel might be found tents, the 
soldiers of the escort, and other warlike impedi- 
menta. Her name was the Brazen Bess, and she 
looked rather like it. 

The objects of the expedition were several fold. 
A general and genial outing was the broad outline 
of the scheme ; but there was also every intention 
of shooting large quantities of wild geese, duck, 
teal, and partridges both black and grey ; also 
alligators to be made later into Gladstone bags. Then 
the fishermen of the party expected good sport in 
that line, and visions of a 50-lb. mahseer were con- 
stantly before their eyes. Next and somewhat 



340 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

incidentally, it was the duty of one of the party to 
make a military report on all the fords, ferries, and 
passages of the Indus which we encountered. And 
finally we were travelling down to see a strange 
spectacle, a great town and cantonment in process 
of being swept away by a great river. This was the 
town and cantonment of Dera-Ghazi-Khan — now 
no more. 

The fleet was timed to weigh anchor at lo a.m. 
on Monday, but did not for various reasons. The 
chiefest of these is that rarely, if ever, does a fleet, 
or for that matter a single ship, start at a given 
hour, but always an hour or more later. The only 
exception to this rule is when some of the passengers, 
relying on this well-known habit, come down that 
one hour later. On that occasion, right down through 
the ages from the days of Noah, the ship will sail 
punctually, taking their baggage and leaving the 
passengers behind. It was therefore in a spirit of 
some self-congratulation that we weighed only an 
hour and twenty minutes late. To an ignorant 
landsman those eighty minutes appeared to have 
been wasted in spurious futilities, but no doubt they 
were all necessary. Anyway, at 11.20 a.m. the 
fleet set sail, in line ahead ; the Saucy Sue leading, 
followed by the Slippery Sal, the rear being brought 
up by the Brazen Bess. 

" What the twelfth-letter-in- the-alphabet is a 
log ? " asked the Ingenuous Subaltern, picking up 
a book from the seat. 

" A log, my dear boy," said the Major impres- 
sively, " is a thing you tow behind you when at 
sea — or on a river." 

" Well, I thought it was a thing the captain wrote 
secretly in his cabin every day, all about nothing," 
chimed in the Lady of the party. 

" You are both perfectly right," summed up the 
oldest of the party, judiciously. 



A CRUISE DOWN THE INDUS 341 

" All right, let's have one/' voted the Ingenuous 
one. " The General shiV write it, the Major shall 
supply the meat, the Lady the fashionable gossip, 
and I'll tow it overboard when finished." 

And it is from this veracious document that the 
present story comes. 

" Who is that strange-looking person up in the 
bows of the Slippery Sal, with a many-coloured 
worsted comforter worn as a pugaree ? " asked the 
Lady. 

** That is the telegraph operator," volunteered 
the I.S. 

" What on earth is a telegraph operator ? And 
how does he operate on a river ? " demanded the 
Lady. 

** That, my dear Lady, you will discover when 
you run short of hairpins," answered the Major. 

Evidently the telegraph operator had some doubts 
himself. From his gloomy bearing and appearance 
he evidently foresaw that he was committed to a 
deadly adventure, a mere forlorn hope. 

The wind now dropped, and though we had a 
good current, progress was so slow that the Captain 
ordered out the sweeps, and the privateersmen being 
experts at these unwieldy weapons, we made good 
way. After about three hours of thus voyaging 
the party got sensibly hungrier, possibly with the 
exertion of watching the rowers. They, therefore, 
signalled up the Slippery Sal, which carried the 
lunch. 

It was whilst lazily slipping along after lunch 
that the sharp eyes of the Lady, possibly because 
they were the only ones open, descried our first 
quarry. There were, according to the Lady's com- 
putation, exactly 3000 geese on and near an island 
about half a mile downstream. The fleet therefore 
came hastily to anchor, and the tender shoved off 
with the three guns on board, to shoot a bird or 



342 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

two for dinner. The geese had, fortunately for us, 
but unfortunately for themselves, never seen a 
tender or a fleet before ; or even apparently the 
glint of a gun. The intrepid party in the punt were 
thus enabled to approach quite close to the quarry 
without muffled oars, and arrived there, to fire a 
broadside into the brown. At the sound of the loud 
report 2999 geese, considerably agitated judging by 
their remarks, got up and flew away, whilst one 
remained. 

" Mine, I think," said the Major. 

" Well, it so happened that that is the exact one 
I aimed at. I had him right on end of my gun all 
the time," protested the I.S. 

" As a matter of fact he is probably mine," put 
in the General, " for you two were apparently firing 
with No. 5, and nothing short of No. 2 will get 
through a wild goose's skin." 

" They have all settled again," remarked the 
boatman. 

And so they had, in the most confiding and goose- 
like manner, about half a mile down, and most of 
them under a steep bank. 

The plan of operations this time was much more 
elaborate. Two guns went ashore at once, and 
making a long detour turned inwards towards the 
steep bank. The tender was then let slip, and 
dropped slowly down on to the white crowd. As 
was intended, the geese watched the tender till it 
got fairly close to them. Then they began to show 
signs of anxiety. A lucky long shot brought down 
one, and the rest went off over the two shore guns, 
two tremendous thumps on the ground signalling 
two more down. We had now enough fresh game 
to provision the fleet, and the geese went off into 
the next province. 

About this time a stiff breeze sprang up, and the 
fleet received orders to set sail. To a soldier this 



A CRUISE DOWN THE INDUS 343 

would seem an easy enough operation. You just pull 
one rope which hoists the sail, and then tie down its 
two spare corners, and there you are ! But to our 
sailors, experienced old river salts, the true magni- 
tude of the task was at once apparent. In the first 
place, the sail was a tangled mass of ropes and poles 
and canvas, stowed away so that no one could get 
at it. During the preliminary disentanglement the 
flagship ran up into the wind, and incidentally on 
to the shore. But the wind caught her another biff, 
and blew her off, but only to waltz round and run 
hard ashore again. After severely injuring several 
more portions of the foreshore, the good ship Saucy 
Sue was got before the wind, and sailed with great 
swiftness for 800 yards, when she ran hard on a 
sandbank, and in getting off this on to another. 
The crew being now exhausted, and the fleet feeling 
rather sore underneath, it was decided to anchor 
for the night on a lee shore. By orders of the 
Admiral the sails were furled by parties standing 
on the bank, the fleet unloaded, and camp pitched 
on a desert island. 

While camp was being pitched, a couple of guns, 
accompanied by the two dogs, went off to try 
and shoot some of the partridges which could be 
heard calling all round. After the first shot 
" Phoongye," the chow dog, with completely shat- 
tered nerves hastily returned, and hid in the bottom 
of one of the boats ; whilst " Patch," the terrier, 
having eaten one partridge, ranged so wide in 
search of another that long shots were the order of 
the evening. However, the gunners came back very 
pleased with themselves, if not with " Patch," and 
added sensibly to our larder. Meanwhile Bugtoo, 
who was the only keen fisherman of the party, first 
landed a stickleback, and then by way of con- 
trast hooked a mahseer as big as himself ; a fish 
which required the united efforts of six boatmen. 



344 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

with an extraordinary amount of conversation, to 
land. 

Under a bright starhght sky and a half moon, 
we sat down to good camp fare, prepared under the 
auspices of the Lady and the I.S. ; with a bottle 
of beer, and a glass of port to follow. After dinner, 
what with the moon on the water and one thing 
and another, the I.S. was moved to sing songs to his 
guitar, apparently not only about one siren's grey 
eyes, but also about some other good lady's eyes- 
of-blue. These had a soporific effect, and as we 
each had a little tent to sleep in, soon nothing was 
to be heard but the low droning of the anchor watch, 
and the soft footfall of the sentry on his beat. 

Next morning we were up betimes ; had struck 
and packed camp on board, and set sail b}' 8.30 a.m. 
We had not gone far, however, when a large number 
of duck and teal could be seen, but right out in the 
middle of the river and difficult of approach. We 
did not see much chance of floating down on them, 
for duck are generally very wild on this river, so we 
contrived a drive on the off chance of getting a shot. 
The ships were anchored with their sails set, this 
being a familiar object ; whilst one gun was landed 
on each bank and the third remained on board. 
Next some boatmen and the dogs were sent round 
by land to cut in below the duck and drive them up- 
stream. The duck came up all right, but at a great 
height, and only a brace fell to the guns. 

A little further downstream the fleet came to a 
good patch of rough grass and bushes, near a village, 
and hearing partridge calling the guns disembarked. 
Here during an hour's walk they picked up half a 
dozen brace. They also bought some very precious 
eggs, and the fowls that laid them, at the village. 

But the triumph of the day was a large alligator. 
Shots had been fired at several, and these, though 
apparently hard hit, managed to slide into the water, 



A CRUISE DOWN THE INDUS 345 

where by common consent they were eaten by their 
friends and relations. Anyway, they never appeared 
again, ahve or dead. But this fellow was hit in the 
neck and lay completely stunned, with his tail 
standing straight up over his back, like a scorpion. 
Having learnt by previous experience that to fire 
another shot had the mysterious effect of galvanizing 
an alligator into sufficient life to convulsively heave 
him into deep water, this time he was approached 
very quietly indeed in the tender ; and when 
arrived close, two of the boatmen got out and 
wading closer still, very deftly threw a rope round 
his tail. Then the monster woke up suddenly, and 
there was a very lively and chaotic encounter which 
lasted for some minutes. For a good-sized alligator 
has the strength of a dozen men. After everyone 
had got very wet, and somewhat exhausted, we 
hauled the monster clear enough ashore to get a shot 
through his head, and this finished him. A suit-case 
made out of his skin was the trophy of this heroic 
struggle. 

A few more duck were shot, and then we tied up 
for the night. Whilst camp was being pitched a few 
partridges were added to the bag. That night there 
were mysterious scratchings, followed by violent 
barking on the part of the dogs. When the sentry 
closed up to it he saw a big beast, probably a hyena, 
searching for somebody, probably Bugtoo. The 
sentry blazed at the beast, and missed hke a man. 
This woke up the whole camp, thinking a midnight 
attack was being made by some stray raiding party. 
Explanations on the part of the sentry, and peevish 
remarks from everybody else. And so to bed again. 

Next day we set sail early, and again there was a 
strong N.W. breeze, which carried us along at 
a great pace ; but the flagship, being flat-bottomed, 
made much leeway, and also sandbanks were, as 
often as not, colhded with ; this lost much valuable 



346 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

time and space. The ship's crew being also of 
Eastern blood, did things in an Eastern way, that 
is to say, the longest and fuddliest way ; with bits 
of garments dropping off at critical moments. As 
someone has said, we need not fear being turned 
forcibly out of India till the people of that land have 
assumed a costume which does not fall off in parts, 
whenever they start to do anything. 

We saw one large flock of geese in a field, and a few 
duck here and there, but did not draw trigger all the 
morning. The scenery the whole way was exactly 
the same, a flat muddy-coloured river, meandering 
at about two and a half miles an hour through a per- 
fectly flat, sandy desert. Occasionally a patch of 
high grass scrub, and now and again in the course of 
a day a tree was seen. For the rest, flat desolation. 
In the far distance to the west an occasional glimpse 
through the haze of the Suleiman Range. 

R-r-r-ripp, smack ! That is the side awning 
tearing. \Vhy ? Because our beloved Aryan brother 
can rarely use an article, or instrument, or anything, 
for the express purpose for which it is made. He 
uses something else, as unsuitable as lies handy, and 
it generally breaks. The Saucy Sue and the Slippery 
Sal, being warped alongside for a meal, one would 
naturally have tied them together with ropes, or 
other suitable attachments. Not so the brother. 
He ties together the awning strings of both ships, 
and then at the moment of parting forgets to undo 
them. Hence the rip, smack ! 

" Man overboard ! " Quite so. And now ? Why, 
also of course in the manner of the East. We were 
tacking, and when tacking all the crew, from the 
Captain downwards, has a word to say, generally 
pitched in a key that can be heard a mile off. One 
brave mariner was holding the sheet with one hand, 
trying to roll up several yards of his pugaree with the 
other, and at the same time talking torrentially. 



A CRUISE DOWN THE INDUS 347 

Puff comes a blast of wind, out goes the sheet, and 
the mariner at the end of it, whilst his pugaree forms 
a long pennant to the group. The puff went by, and 
souse went the sheet end, and our friend into the 
water. Then we all set to work earning the Humane 
Society's Medal and cursing the mariner for making 
us wet. End of incident. 

That evening we gave the telegraph operator an 
answer to the Lady's question of the first day. 

" Look here, sonny, you will walk as fast as you 
can due west till you hit a telegraph line ; it may be 
six miles off, and it may be sixteen. When you hit it, 
tap the wire, and see if you can get any news ; and 
in return send news of the safety, and present 
position, of this Armada." 

" God forbid, sir ! I shall certainly perish from 
bad men on this journey." 

" Oh no, you won't, Babu. You ain't worth 
killing. You just trot along." 

" Sir, you are very harsh man. But I beget my 
wife and children to your Honour's generosity." 

" Thanks, Babu, but you are going to support them 
yourself for many a long day. Off you go." 

So, with a villager for a guide, off went Babu Moti 
Ram, the telegraph operator ; and eventually hit the 
line about six miles off. Having arrived at this 
haven of safety, where at any rate he could talk both 
ways — that is, either to his friend Babujee Dinshaw 
at Dera-Ismail-Khan, or to Narain Das at Dera- 
Ghazi-Khan— he decided to take no further risks 
and absolutely refused to face the perils of the 
journey back to the river. 

Here, with his back to the telegraph post, he felt 
safe, and at home. It was only with courage 
begotten of the first streak of dawn that the villager 
induced him to trek back to the boats ; further imbued 
with the fear that delay might result in his being left 
behind in these awful and impenetrable deserts. 



348 A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 

" Where no man can live soundly," as he was 
heard to explain afterwards. 

Yet these are the people who for some years 
appear to have seriously shaken the nerves of the 
Government of India. 

And so our cruise continued : shooting, sailing, 
and lazing by day ; a little fishing in the evening, 
and a bright little camp in a bright little spot every 
night. It was therefore with some regret that we 
at length saw, spanning the distant horizon, a white 
bridge of boats which we knew betokened Dera- 
Ghazi-Khan, and the end of our river cruise. 

At this particular moment, and happily not before, 
our noble cook, reputed to be a Brigadier-General in 
the Goanese Army, fell sick. One can receive with 
well-restrained equanimity the news of the regret- 
table departure from this vale of tears of many of 
our friends ; but only those who are built in the 
heroic mould can without emotion hear of the 
slightest ailment which may attack their cook. 
Ours happily survived, and is now very possibly a 
Field-Marshal fighting against the Germans in East 
Africa. 

As we stood on the middle boat of the bridge, the 
toll keeper remarked, " You are now standing over 
the exact spot where the spire of the Mission Church 
was a few months ago." 

We looked down but could see no spire. South 
and south-west from here, and only a few hundred 
yards off, the sight of a mighty river demolishing a 
great town met our gaze. More than half of this 
town of thirty thousand inhabitants had already 
been swept away ; and the rest was now going in 
large slabs and slices, as the great river rolled 
relentlessly past it. The remaining houses, temples 
and shops were now all forsaken, and hundreds of 
homeless families were camped about on the higher 
ground further inland. 



A CRUISE DOWN THE INDUS 349 

The Cantonment had been evacuated by the 
troops ; and there lay sad and desolate, awaiting 
its inevitable end. The Garrison Church stood 
without doors and windows agape with sad amaze- 
ment. Even the tombs of the dead had been dis- 
mantled, and their monuments moved to a new 
land. All round stood enormous banks and defences 
showing the heroic fight of the engineers, and the 
hundreds of thousands of pounds spent, in the vain 
endeavour to fight the great river. It was a sad 
and dispiriting scene. 

Only the imperturbable good spirits of the 
Ingenuous Subaltern kept us from passing a rather 
mournful evening — our last. 

" Well, good-bye all," said the Lady, " and next 
year we must take another cruise." 

But that cruise never came off, for the Emperor 
Wilhelm II claimed our attention next year. 



INDEX 



A'Court, Colonel, 122 

Abdul Rahman, 37 

Adams, Lieut. -Col. R. B., 329- 

332 
Adams, Padre, 324-326 
Afghanistan, Amir of, 32, 43 
Afghanistan, 32, 39, 320 
Afghan War, 1878-80, 317 
Aguinaldo, 157, 158 
Alexandra, Queen, 208, 209, 326 
Alexandria, 96, 235 
Ali Gul, 51-57 
Ali-Musjid, 43, 45, 49 
Allahabad, 37 
Aston, Brig. -Gen. Sir George, 120 

B 

Baden-Powell, Sir Robert, 189, 190, 

191 
Bangkok, 112, 113, 219 
Bannatine-Allason, General, 243 
Barclay, Captain, 320 
Barrow, Sir Edmund, 241, 242, 285, 

286 
Battye, Colonel F. D., 332 
Battye, Major Wigram, 321 
Beaufort- West, 178 
Bedford, Duke of, 212 
Beresford, Lord Marcus, 207, 208, 

210 
Beresford, Lord William, 210, 211, 

212 
Bethlehem (S. Africa), 164 
Blood, Sir Bindon, 293, 294, 330 
Boer War, 160-191, 192, 207, 225, 

230, 238, 243 
Bombay, 37 
Bond, Major, 246 
Boshoff, 166, 167 
Botha, General, 181 
Brabazon, General Sir John, 72 
Brahmaputra, 51 
Brown, Captain, 248, 249, 251 



Browne, Sir Sam, 281, 320 
Bugtoo, 273, 339, 343, 345 
Bunbury, Maj.-Gen. W. E., 118 
Butler, Captain H., 245, 246 



Cambridge, Duke of, 119, 120, 126, 

127, 128 
Cape Town, 175, 190, 191 
Caroline Islands, 148 
Cassel, Sir E., 207, 208 
Cateau, Le, battle of, 236 
Cavagnari, Sir Louis, 75, 252 
Charasiah, battle of, 227, 327 
Chesham, Lord, 166 
Chichester, Sir Edward, 151-154 
Chitral, Relief of, 71, 130, 293, 

332 
Clery, Sir Francis, 117, 123 
Connaught, Duchess of, 220 
Connaught, Duke of, 220, 221 
Cooper-King, Colonel, 125 
Cowans, Lieut. -Gen. Sir John, 117, 

118 
Cromer, Lord, 232 
Cuba, 147, 196 
Curzon, Lord, 242 

D 

Dale, Padre, 82, 83 

Davies, Lieut. -Gen. Sir Francis, 118 

Delhi, 139, 220 

Delarey, General, 181 

Dera-Ghazi-Khan, 338, 340, 347, 

348 
Dera-Ismail-Khan, 337, 338, 347 

De Wet, 164, 168, 180, 181, 332 
Dewey, Admiral, 150-155. I57 
Dodd, Major G., 245-252 
Dogs, anecdotes of, 72-83 
Doyne, Colonel M., 4th Dragoon 

Guards, 294, 295 
Dufierin, Lady, 212, 213, 214 
Dufferin, Lord, 212, 213 



351 



352 



A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 



Edward VII— 

entertaining at Sandringham, 

207, 208, 209 
great ruler, 206 
issued order that his health 

might be drunk in water, 300 
leading monarch in Europe, 206 
Padr6 Adams preaches before, 

326 
personal charm and diplomacy of, 

207 
secured rapprochement with 

France and Russia, 206, 207 
Egerton, Maj.-Gen. Sir Raleigh, 

294. 295 
Egypt, 89-96, 232, 235 
Egyptian War of 1882, 234 
El Teb, 328 
Ewart, Lieut. -General Sir Spencer, 

116, 117, 118, 120 



Fincastle, Lieut. Lord, 329-332 
French, Lord, 177 



Gatacre, Sir William, loi, 102, 134 
Germany — 

behaviour of German Fleet at 

Manila, 152-154 
Caroline Islands ceded by Spain 

to, 148 
chief beneficiary in Spanish- 
American War, 147 
Roosevelt's dislike of, 225, 226 
George V — 

his gift of remembering faces, 

214, 215 
Sir John Woon supplies chargers 

for use of, 216, 217 
Tour of India as Prince of Wales, 

214 
Visit to India as George V, 216, 
217 
George, Mr. Lloyd, 238 
Gibraltar, 235 

Gleichen, Maj.-Gen. Count, 118 
Gomal Pass, 146, 248, 291 
Gordon Highlanders, 327, 328 
Gorringe, Sir George, 233 
Gough, Sir Charles, 321 
Great War, the, 1914, 232, 237, 238, 

245, 272, 311 
Greaves, Sir George, 95 
Griscom, Lloyd, 192, 194, 200, 203 



Guides, The — 

commanded by Sir J. McQueen, 

87 
enquired after by Lord Roberts, 

230 
gallant officers of, 332, 333 
General Luck questions native 

officers of, 286, 287 
in Khyber Pass, 49, 50, 51 
march to Delhi in Mutiny by, 

139 
mess customs of, 301 
native Princes enlist as troopers 

in, 56 
officer sent for discipline to, 310 
paraded before Lord Roberts, 229 
part of 2nd Brigade in storming 

of Ali-Musjid, 45 
splendid fight in battle of Panj- 

kora River, 134 
surveying escort in Afghanistan, 

319-321 

H 

Haakon, King of Norway, 209 
Haig, Sir Douglas, 236, 237 
Hamilton, General Sir Bruce, 124 
Hamilton, Lord George, 162 
Hamilton, Walter, 320-322 
Hammond, Captain, 322, 323 
Hardie, Keir, 289-293 
Hart, Sir Reginald, 318, 319 
Henderson, Colonel, 125 
Hickie, G. W. C, 250, 252 
Holmes, Captain, 221-223 



Iloilo, 148, 149 

Imperial Yeomanry, 3rd, 163, 164, 

231, 287 
Imperial Yeomanry, 26th (Young- 
husband's Horse), 287 
India — 

Duke and Duchess of Con- 
naught's stay in, 220-224 
George V visits as Prince of 
Wales, 214-216, and as King, 
217 
incapacity for self-government 

of, 277-279 
Keir Hardie's visit to, 289-293 
loyalty of native officers and 

servants, 270-275 
paternal system of Government 

best adapted for, 268, 269 
problems of, 268-270 



INDEX 



353 



India — 

risks of British officers on Fron- 
tiers of, 244-267 

strong line needed in, 197 
Indus, 337-349 



Jhelum, 39, 40, 89 
Jugdulluk Pass, 75, 77 
Jutogh, 187 

K 

Kabul, 75, 215, 227, 229, 322, 323, 

325. 327 
Kandahar, 227, 327 
Khyber Pass, 42, 43, 45, 49, 50, 57, 

318 
Kiang-Tung, 107, 109 
Kimberley, 167 
Kipling, Miss, 187, 213 
Kipling, Rudyard, 187-189, 213 
Kitchener, Earl — 

as Commander-in-Chief in India, 

241, 242 
contrast to Lord Roberts, 228 
fashioned on lines of Bismarck, 

229 
interviews young Wylly, 334 
name and fame chiefly connected 

with Egypt, 232 
narrow escape from capture by 

Boers, 232 
his power of intuition, 232, 233 
influence of Press and Public, 241 
Kohat Pass, 325 



Ladysmith, 71 

Lahore, 38, 187, 188 

Lalla, Lance-Naik of Dogras, 335, 

336 
Leach, General Sir E. P., 319, 320 
Leyds, Dr., 184 
Lhassa, 51 

Lindley (S. Africa), 164 
Lindley, Maj.-Gen. the Hon. J., 119 
Lonsdale-Hale, Colonel, 125 
Low, Sir Robert, 134, 293, 294 
Luck, Sir George, 286, 287 
Lucknow, 136 
Luckoo, 135, 262, 272, 283, 339 

M 

MacDonald, Sir Hector, 160, 161 
MacLean, Lieut. H., 329, 331, 332 
MacPherson, Sir Herbert, 328 



McRae, Captain, H. N., 221-223 

McQueen, Sir John, 87, 88 

Maf eking, 71, 191 

Mahsud-Waziri, 245, 248, 291, 292 

Malakand Pass, 134, 293, 294 

Malolos, 158 

Malta, 32 

Mandalay, io8, no 

Manila, 149, 150, i53_i35_ i^j 

Mardan, 78, 81, 83, 286 

Maud, Princess (Queen of Norway), 

208 
Maude, Colonel, 123, 188 
Maude, Sir Frederick, 318 
Maurice, Sir Frederick, 124, 125 
Maxwell, Lieut.-Col. F. H., 332, 333 
Mayo, Lord, 275, 276 
Meerut, 190 
Mekong River, 219 
Mesopotamia, 43, 318 
Methuen, Lord, 163, 166, 167, 179, 

180, 231, 232, 235 
Mikado, 219, 220 
Monro, General Sir Charles, 116 
Mons (retreat from), 236 
Montreal, 198, 199 
Moulmein, 104, 107 
Murree, 72, 74, 80 

O 
Oyster Bay, 195, 224 



Panjkora River, battle of, 134 
" Patch," 80-82, 339, 343 
Penn Symons, Sir W., 235, 236 
" Persimmon," 209, 210 
Peshawar, 39, 41, 74, 131, 136, 214- 

216, 286, 325 
Pezu, 144, 145 
Philippines, the, 148, 155 
Phipps-Hornby, Major E. J., 329 

333 
" Phoongye," 81, 339, 343 
Portland, Duke of, 231 
Powindah, Mullah, 140, 141 
Pretoria, 191 
Probyn, Sir Dighton, 162 



Q 



Quebec, 197, 200 

R 

Rangoon, 108, log 

Rawal Pindi, 74, 221, 235, 294 



354 



A SOLDIER'S MEMORIES 



Rhodes, Cecil, i88, 189, 190 
Roberts, Countess, 212 
Roberts, Earl — 

advance on Pretoria, 191 
Charasiah, battle of, won by, 

227, 327 
contrast between Lord Kitchener 

and, 22S 
difficulty in getting V.C. for 
Captain Hammond, 314, 322, 
and Captain Vousden, 324 
kindness and consideration of, 

117, 229, 230 
lies in St. Paul's Cathedral, 228 
march from Kabul to Kandahar, 

227, 325, 327 
modern Bayard, 228 
recommends Padre Adams for 

V.C, 326 
sends despatch rider to Lord 

Methuen, 163 
stern disciplinarian, 229 
strenuous efforts for National 

Service League, 228 
success at Sherpur, 228 
takes command in Boer War, 
228 
Robertson, Sir William, 237, 238 
Rolleston, Colonel SirL., 167, 168 
Roosevelt, Miss, 203, 204 
Roosevelt, Kermit, 196 
Roosevelt, Mrs., 196 
Roosevelt, Theodore, 195-197, 224- 

226 
Roosevelt-Cole, Mrs., 203, 204 
Russo-Japanese War, 148 



Sandhurst, 1-32, 181, 242 

Sandringham, 207-209, 326 

Sanna's Post, 329, 332 

Scarbrough, Lord, 162, 163 

Scarbrough, Lady, 172 

Scrase-Dickins, Captain, 224 

Sheikh-Budin, 144 

Sher Afzul, Sirdar, 129-133, 135 

Sherpur, 227, 229, 322 

Shore, Maj.-Gen. O. F. B., 118 

Siam, King of, 21 8, 219 

Simla, 82, 134, 187, 189, 237, 280, 

281 
Singapore, 148 
Singh, Sir Pertab, 276 
Smith-Dorrien, Sir H., 235, 236 
Snakes, anecdotes of, 83-86 
Several, Marquis de, 208 



Spanish-American War, 147-159 
Stedman, Captain, 319 
Suakin, 89, 90, 97 
Suez Canal, 34 
Suleiman Mountains, 144 
Swat River, 330 



Thibet, 197 

Tirah, 57, igo, 238, 332 
Tokio, 219 
Toronto, 198 
Tytler, General, 45 

U 
Umballa, 160, 235, 238 



V 

Vereeniging, 172 
Victoria Cross — 

Royal Warrant for, 3 1 5-3 1 7 

awards of, 317-336 
Victoria, Princess, 209 
Victoria, Queen, 328 
Villebois de Mareuil, 167, 168 
Vousden, Captain, 323, 324 



W 

Wano, 247, 248, 291-293 
Wauchope, General, 160 
Waziristan, 245, 248 
White, Field-Marshal Sir George, 

103. 327. 328 
Willcocks, Sir James, 242, 243, 287, 

288 
William II, German Emperor — 
eclipsed by Edward VII, 206 
Roosevelt's opinion of, 226 
visit to Salisbury Cathedral, 217, 

218 
Wilson, Admiral Sir A. K., 328, 

329 
Wolfe, General, 198 
Wolseley, Lord, 162, 233, 234 
Wood, Gordon, 230 
Woon, Sir John, 188, 216, 217 
Wylly, Corporal, 333, 334 



Younghusband, Sir Francis, 51, 129 
note, 197 



INDEX 



355 



Younghusband, Major-General Sir 

George — 
acts as guardian to Sher Afzul, 

129-133 
adventures on intelligency duty 

in Burmah, 10 4-1 11 
applies for service in Egypt, 87- 

89 
asked by Lord Roberts to break 

news of death of Gordon Wood, 

230 
association with Sir James Will- 
cocks, 242 
attacked by convicts at Suakin, 

96. 97 
battle of McNeill's zareba, 91-93 
boating on Indus, 337-349 
childish memories of India, 36 
his diplomacy at Viceregal Lodge, 

213, 214 
his dogs, anecdotes of, 72-83 
drives Staff College coach, 122 
encounter with Major Dodd, 245 
endeavours to take part in Boer 

War, 160-163 
escape from assassination by 

Mahsuds, 144, 145 
fighting with a column in Boer 

War, 180-187 
his first battle, 5S-71 
first meeting with Lord Roberts, 

229 
first meeting with Lord Kitchener, 

231. 232 
joins his regiment, 37-44 
journey to Suakin, 89, 90 
letters from Indian friends, 283- 

285 
and Luckoo, his bearer, 135, 272, 

273.283 
his medallion, 296 
meets George V when Prince of 

Wales, 215 
meets Lord Kitchener at Wel- 

beck, 231 



meets Sir WiUiam Robertson at 

Simla, 237 
practical jokes at Sandhurst, 1-31 
prescribes for Burmese lady, 107 
press notice of, 287 
purchases sham sapphires and 

cat's-eyes, iii, H2 
rash hunting foray, 97-99 
rides in Aldershot Point-to-Point 

Race, 120, 121 
route-marching in India, 135-139 
second battle of Tamai, 93, 94 
selected for arduous work in 

Burmah, 103 
service with Imperial Yeomanry 

in Boer War, 163-178 
a spectator of Spanish- American 

War, 148-159 
spends leave in America, 192-198 
stay at Staff College, 11 5-128 
success in French examination, 

123, 124 
syce surrenders to, 100 
at taking of Khyber Pass, 45-50 
as Times correspondent, 134, 135 
trip to Canada, 198-200 
trouble with Governor of Iloilo, 

149. 150 
unpleasant task as Staff officer, 

240 
visit to Mr. Roosevelt, 195, 196, 

224-226 
visit to Sandringham, 208, 209 
visits Salisbury Cathedral, 217, 

218 
visit to Admiral Dewey on flag- 
ship, 151 
visit to Aguinaldo's headquarters, 

157. 15S 
voyage to India, 33-36 
Younghusband, Brigadier-General 

Leslie, So, 81 
Younghusband, Maj.-Gen. J. W., 

270, 271, 280 note, 281, 282 
York Town, 24, 25, 30 



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